After The End: Supernatural
by The Penner
Summary: After all is said and done, after all the demons have been chased from this world and angels have retreated to heaven, what then? Dean Winchester is living a life he never wanted, Sam is gone, Cas is gone, he has nothing left. Just when he thinks the boredom might drive him insane a new evil rises up and he has to fight to save his brother but also to save an old friend. Destiel
1. Chapter 1

**PART ONE**

_Missing_

**PROLOGUE**

Every story has to end. Usually on a happy note but sometimes the end isn't quite what you expected. The end to their story was obvious, if you were paying attention.

Sam Winchester, despite the demon blood thick in his veins, despite his mistakes and the darkness ever looming in his heart, was never cut out for the life of a hunter. Every turn his journey with his brother took, every chance he got, he longed and searched for a way out. A normal, non-supernatural life, was all he ever wanted.

It's not that he didn't want to remain close to his brother, or that he wanted to hurt Dean in any way, it's just that the lifestyle Dean wanted wasn't the lifestyle Sam dreamed of having. For Sam, the picture perfect family, the normal, repetitive routine, the stable home and 9-5 job appealed more than any adventure. For Dean, Sam was his picture perfect family, their life was normal and 9-5 sounded like hell.

It was inevitable that they would part ways.

If you asked Dean Winchester how he felt about his brother leaving the 'family business', Dean would probably shrug, make some dismissive comment and change the subject. Maybe he'd act like he didn't care what his brother did. Maybe he'd pretend he was happy.

The truth wasn't that easy. He cried the day Sam left. Not where anyone could see, not loud, not out of self pity, he cried because he knew things would never be the same. He cried because now, especially now, he was truly all alone.

They both should have known things weren't going to go the way they expected.

Sam wasn't going to have a normal life, no matter how much he tried to grasp one.

And Dean was never going to be alone.

* * *

-1-

|Blanchard, Louisiana|

People die all the time. Some deaths, however, are far more gruesome than others. Dean Winchester was used to seeing dead bodies. A little too used to it if you asked him, but that was the nature of the job. People died. He investigated. Rinse. Repeat. Recycle.

"Agent Cuddy," he flashed his badge as he approached the wary looking Sherriff, "what's the sitch?"

"FBI? This isn't really a federal case, Agent. Just two kids who decided to jump off a roof together." Sherriff Downing was a smart man, Dean could tell right away, he wasn't going to be easy to mess around with.

Keep it simple, straight forward. Dean nodded, "Wouldn't be federal if not for the roof they decided to jump from?"

Sherriff Downing looked at the old bakery and then at Dean. Straight. Keep it straight. Dean's lips tilted in a smile that probably came off as a smirk, not his intention but honestly he was losing his touch these days, "You didn't know? This is federal property now. These kids were trespassing. Let me get a look at the bodies."

The Sherriff didn't try to stop him. He stayed back, letting Dean proceed on his own. The fall had turned both kids into human hamburger. It wasn't pretty. Blood and bits everywhere. Dean checked the intact bits first then took a moment to comb over the... impacted, bits.

He found it, the clue he needed, mixed in with a stain of blood. Ectoplasm. It wasn't a huge surprise. Five suicides in one month, all lovers? What else COULD it be? This case had never been a proper mystery to begin with. Of course, the trouble now was figuring out the connection and finding the vengeful spirit. Honestly though, in a town like this he didn't expect that to be so difficult.

"Right, so, they're dead," Dean said as seriously as he could when he returned to the Sherriff's side.

Sherriff Downing frowned, "Was that supposed to be a joke?"

Dean shrugged, "If you gotta explain it, it's not a joke. Thanks for your time."

Back in his car Dean let out a soft sigh. Now to the mundane bits. The Impala roared to life with her usual fervor. He patted the dashboard, "good girl," he murmured. He slipped the gears into reverse and looked up to see the Sherriff watching him. Sherriff Downing continued to stare right up until he drove down the street and turned the corner.

Dean had what he needed to get this case going. Names, addresses and cause of death. Now for the hard work. Work he normally would have pawned off on Sam.

* * *

The chill in the hotel room inspired him to wear a thick sweater. Either the heater was broken or the thermostat was, Dean didn't know which and he didn't care enough to do anything about it. He could have fixed it, if he was so inclined. Apathy and laziness kept him from doing anything other than bundle up and hunker down to endure the cold.

The light from the laptop was the only light in the room. Working in the dark on a ghost case was probably an unwise choice but Dean liked the dark. Besides, it's not as if he was afraid of ghosts.

Light would only remind him that he was alone. Light would reveal all the things he hated about his life. In the dark he could pretend Sam was asleep on the spare bed. He could fall asleep and pretend Sam was with him.

The room had two beds. He always rented a room with two beds. This was the way things had been all of Dean's life and he wasn't going to change his habits now just because Sammy had gone off and gone normal.

"Jeffrey Jones." This was another habit, one that was more embarrassing (in his mind) than the other. He always spoke as he typed. He was almost incapable of operating the computer silently. At least he could explain the two beds thing on expecting visitors or company or whatever. Talking to his computer? That wasn't exactly easy to explain away. If computers were voice activated and controlled he could get away with it, but they weren't. Not that it mattered if he acted like a freak, there wasn't anyone to witness his little idiosyncrasies now. Most of the time anyway. The odd time he would use his laptop in public but most of the time he did his research in dirty old hotel or motel rooms.

Rooms with two beds.

It took an hour to dig up dirt on Jeffrey Jones, another four hours to find a connection between Jones and Sarah Heely, and then the trail went cold. The other eight victims seemed entirely unrelated to one another. No social activities in common, no friends in common, as far as Dean could tell they had never laid eyes on one another. No small task in a town this size.

It was the ache in his eyes that prompted him to finally snap the laptop closed and crawl onto the nearest bed. Without that ache he might have continued the search all through the night. These days he didn't notice small physical discomforts, nor did he enjoy sloth, gluttony and sex quite as much as he had before. His entire world had taken on a pallor that he couldn't seem to shake.

In the silence, in the dark, he let himself relax.

"Night Sammy," he whispered before sleep took him.

* * *

He dreamed of hell. Of purgatory. Of a place that mixed the two together. Where he was both interrogator and prey. Tormentor and tormented. It wasn't a pleasant dream. It wasn't a restful sleep.

The last thing he saw before his brain thankfully jolted him awake was Cas' face. Contorted in pain. Torn up from the fight.

And then his eyes, dead, lifeless as he finally gave in.

"Cas!"

It was morning. Sun shone through the ridiculously thin curtains. The room, once cold, was warmer now. The heater hummed, a noise it hadn't been making when Dean fell asleep. A wary hand rubbed his face and then pushed through his thick, greasy hair. A shower was in order, but not yet. He needed a moment to sort out his thoughts and to push away the dream that had really been a mixture of memories.

The past would probably never let him go. He had accepted that a long time ago. That didn't mean it was easy. Didn't mean he could stop to ever, truly, think about all the shit that had gone down. If he stopped to think he might actually lose his mind.

/Keep moving. Don't think. Don't stop./ It was his motto, and how he got through life.

He swung his legs off the bed and got to his feet.

As he walked to the bathroom he didn't stop to check his phone. If he had, he would have noticed the ten missed calls, the voicemail and the series of text messages. They were all from the same person and said the same thing: Dean, I need you. Call me. This is Sam.

* * *

-2-

|Littlefield, Texas|

The last message had been from here. Dean flipped his phone open and dialed voicemail. After a series of annoying commands Sam's voice finally spoke, "Dean, I need you. Call me. This is Sam." He'd heard the message several times a day since he'd received it.

It hadn't been easy tracing the source of the call but he had. After that it hadn't been easy to go crazy while he drove down here, but here he was. Sane as he could manage and ready to find his brother.

He and Sam didn't talk that often lately. They hadn't parted on the best terms when Sam decided to go off and be normal but over time things had stung a bit less and Dean had been able to move on enough that they had a working relationship. He still felt betrayed but he didn't let that betrayal seep through. They spoke to each other every few months.

Sam returned to university when they parted ways. Eventually he met a girl, fell in love and these days he lived the kind of life he'd always wanted. Corporate job. Monday to Friday, 9-5. No excitement. No monsters. Nothing but his girl, his job and his home. That part really got to Dean. Sam owned a house. It was something he could hardly wrap his head around. He hadn't seen it, probably he never would. The last thing Dean wanted now was to disturb the cozy little life Sam had carved for himself and Dean's presence would definitely disturb things.

Things were different now. No demons, no angels, no marks on their heads. Sam could be happy now. He could pretend he wasn't a hunter deep down, where it counted. Dean didn't want to ruin that, much as he missed his brother he didn't miss him enough to ruin the little bit of peace that Sam had claimed.

Sam didn't know that Dean was alone. He didn't know that Dean teetered on the brink of depression. Or that maybe Dean had fallen over that brink a long time ago and was now so deeply immersed in the darkness of his own soul that he had succumbed to apathy. Sam didn't know that Dean had forgotten how to enjoy this god-forsaken life and Dean wouldn't be the one to reveal these things to him. Not if he could help it.

* * *

"Hey," the door jingled as he pushed it open, then jingled again as it closed behind him. Dean nodded at the young woman behind the counter. She smiled at him, her eyes taking him in. He still had it, the ability to attract attention from males and females alike, but he wasn't interested. She was what, 18? 19? These days he was too old for a kid that age. /When did I get old?/ he wondered idly.

"How's it going?" Dean didn't bother pretending to be here for anything other than what he was here for. Any other day he might have bought a few items, struck up a conversation while paying but today he wasn't in the mood for games. Sam was in trouble and every moment wasted beating around the issue was a moment risking Sam's safety.

"Hi," she said. Her lips pursed, her cheeks puffed and a slim, pink bubble pushed past her lips. With a snap the gum popped and she took her time licking all the sticky pieces off her lips.

Was this supposed to be alluring? Dean watched her incredulously, when the show was over he leaned his arms on the counter, "I'm looking for someone. Bout this tall," he held his hand over his head, "brown hair, looks like a corporate douche. Answers to the name Sam."

The girl shrugged, "Lots of people come through here. Lots of them are tall."

"He would have been here two days ago."

The girl shook her head, "Sorry man. Doesn't sound familiar."

"Right, were you working two days ago?" Dean asked with super human patience.

She shook her head, "I was here yesterday. He wasn't."

"Who was working two days ago?"

"Can't say."

Dean reached into his jacket and tugged out what he thought was the FBI badge. He checked it real quick, it was the badge, before flipping it open for her, "Can you say now?"

She eyed the badge skeptically but then her eyes widened as she realized what it was. She stood a bit straighter, swallowed the gum and nodded, "Just a minute. He's in the back."

'In the back' turned out to be a kid just as young as the girl. He was also just as helpful. He came out with hands in his pockets, sullen expression fixed on his young, smooth features. "Dunno, haven't seen him." he answered when Dean questioned him. Too many customers. It was too difficult to remember one face in particular. Typical excuses when the real answer was: I barely notice my surroundings, I'm too busy goofing off at work.

In the end Dean gave up on interrogating the kids and asked to see their security footage. They complied only because of the badge, which he flashed one more time to get the moving.

* * *

Sam wasn't alone. Dean rewound the tape and watched the same two minutes over and over. He was alone in the manager's office, security televisions mounted on the wall before him and in one television in particular he watched footage from two days ago.

Early in the morning, around the time Sam had made the call, Sam came in here with a woman. They moved to the counter, Sam used the phone and then they left. That was it. It wasn't a lot, but it was something.

'In the back' poked his head into the room, "Found what you need, yet?"

Dean gestured at the screen, "Remember him?"

'In the back' had a name; Jesse, according to the nametag pinned to his chest. He watched the clip, "Woah... man. That's me at the counter but I don't remember any of this."

"You handed him the phone."

"I swear, I don't remember this at all." The kid, apparently, had been smoking some pretty serious weed, or something a little less nefarious and a little more supernatural. Which, Dean supposed, was his specialty.

"Do you remember what happened before?"

"I... I mean, I was... just working."

"And what happened after?"

"Yeah. I remember thinking; why's the phone off the hook?"

"So you remember the phone being off the hook, you remember what happened moments before this but you don't remember this?" Dean jabbed his finger at the screen.

"Yeah, man... I... I just don't."

"Thanks. That helps." This was definitely supernatural caused amnesia and not drug-induced black out.

The kid looked at him with that look people got when they realized they were speaking to a crazy person. Dean ignored him and flipped open his phone. A quick button and the phone was ringing. He walked out while he waited.

Garth answered on the fifth ring, "Heya Dean!"

"I need your help."

* * *

-4-

Clouds covered the sun. The meadow was damp and quiet. In a nearby field a tractor rumbled through a field of golden wheat. A single prairie dog rubbed it's nose into the ground. Overhead a flock of birds attempted to fly in formation.

They weren't there and then they were. If someone had been there to see, it would have been in the blink of an eye. There were no eyes to see their miraculous appearance.

The seven looked at each other, faces perfectly void of expression. The leader, the largest by at least two feet, held up his hand. He flicked his fingers and two were gone. He flicked his fingers again and two more were gone. One more flick and the last two disappeared. He was left alone.

But only for a moment. He stopped to run his hand over the prairie dog's back, it submitted to him without fear, without question, and then he too was gone.

Where they had once stood the grass and wildflowers they had touched turned to pure, solid gold and the prairie dog whimpered as it's flesh turned hard and cold.

Later, when the farmer rolled passed in his tractor, he stopped to gaze down in confusion at the solid gold prairie dog statue in the middle of his field.

* * *

-5-

"Got him!" Garth threw his arms in the air, nearly unsettling his laptop in the process. Thankfully his reflexes were better than they had been in the past and he managed to catch the silly thing before it tumbled to the floor. He couldn't afford to lose another one. Especially not like this, again.

"Got him?" Dean repeated through the speaker of Garth's phone.

"Managed to run face recognition on the cameras in neighboring cities and towns. He was in Lubbock earlier today." Garth said quickly and with a hint of pride. He wasn't proud of his work so much as he was proud of the technology.

"Face recognition?"

"It's real handy technology, especially if you're a hacker. Real easy, you run a photo through the program, it scans any available video for a match and wha-la. It's only wrong, maybe, 60 percent of the time but this time it's right. I'm looking at the video right now, Dean, this is definitely Sam."

It had been awhile since Garth saw Sam Winchester face to face but it was difficult to forget one of the most famous hunters in the game. Especially difficult because he saw Sam and Dean as family.

"Where was he last spotted?"

"Sleep Inn and Suites. 84th St. If you book it you can be there in just under an hour."

"Thanks Garth."

"No problem. I'll keeping running this program, see if he pops up anywhere else."

"Do that."

* * *

Garth definitely had his uses. Dean disconnected the call and swithed lanes so he could take the oncoming exit. These days he was far more useful then he would have been if Sam was still around. Some days Dean could hardly believe he trusted Garth for anything but the kid was good and he was hard working and despite being weird he was decently intelligent.

More weird than intelligent but intelligent still.

Right now Dean would have kissed Garth if he could.

He pressed speed dial and waited for the ringing to cut off. "Leave a message." Sam's voice spoke seconds after the ringing stopped. His voice was followed by a loud beep.

"Sammy. Call me man. I'm starting to get worried now. Garth spotted you in Lubbock, I'm headed there." Dean sighed, "Don't know why I'm leaving this message. You probably won't get this. But if you do... call me."

Awkward. Sam probably didn't have the phone on him.

"Ah frick..." Dean terminated the connection.

The highway blurred before him. Whatever this was, he didn't like it. Hadn't he lost enough? Hadn't he sacrificed enough? Why the hell was this happening?

It was bad enough not having Sammy with him but if he was hurt... if something had happened... Dean couldn't think about it. He couldn't contemplate it.

The music wasn't loud enough. He grabbed the volume and cranked it as high as it would go. The noise drowned out his thoughts. And his fears.

* * *

-6-

|Lubbock, Texas|

"Yes, Mr. Winchester was here earlier today. He and his companion rested a few hours and then left," the hotel staff at Sweet Inn and Suites were more than willing to help when Dean flashed his badge but then most people were, "would you like to see the room where they stayed, Agent Cuddy?"

"I sure would."

The fact that Sam was using his real name, Sam Winchester, left Dean feeling cold. Of course he'd wondered if something was wrong, now he knew for sure. Sam Winchester was a dead convict. Not someone you willingly pretended to be. Sam's new name was Foster. He wouldn't use any other names anymore, certainly not the one he'd been born with.

The room the concierge led him to was empty. It had been cleaned already. Dean sat on the bed, he stood by the window. He touched anything he thought Sam might have touched. The TV remote, the coffee pot, everything.

"Sammy," he murmured, "Sammy, where the hell are you?"

* * *

-7-

"Where are we going?" Sam Winchester had not been having a good few days. He'd been kidnapped, roughed up and forced to endure ... well, he didn't even want to think about that. Whatever that had been. Singing? He shuddered at the memory.

His companion, the woman, ignored his question. She had been doing that a lot. She didn't speak much, just a word now and then if she had to. He hadn't figured out just what she was yet. Not human. Not a shifter. Probably not a vampire, though it was hard to say for sure. If he had one guess, just one thing that felt right, it was demon.

Thing was, demon's were supposed to be gone.

The gates of hell had been closed for a good, long while. Demons weren't exactly possible anymore. Or at least they weren't supposed to be.

A few days back, at the convenience store, she'd let him make that phone call. It was almost like she wanted Dean to come after them. Back at the hotel she'd let him use his real name too. Something he'd done deliberately to leave clues for Dean.

He hated dragging Dean into this. What other choice did he have though? This was Dean's life. This is what Dean did. He figured monsters out and he killed them.

And he always, always protected Sam.

"Are you after Dean?" Sam asked.

He didn't expect an answer.

"Dean?" her voice startled him.

"Is he who you're after?"

She turned to look at him. She hadn't looked directly at him before. She blinked, strange green-brown eyes dilating. For a moment, just a moment, he felt like he knew her.

"Dean Winchester."

"My brother," Sam said. No point keeping it a secret. If this thing was after Dean it would know already. And if it wasn't, it would have figured it out anyway.

"My brother," she repeated.

"What are you?"

"Dean."

* * *

-8-

He hadn't tried this in so long that he almost forgot how to do it. He sat on the end of the bed and rubbed his hands against his knees. "Castiel..." his throat seemed to close. He swallowed and tried again, "Cas... I don't know if you can hear me anymore... seems like I spend a lot of time talking to you without any answer... but Cas if you can hear me now, please... please let me know."

He closed his eyes.

He waited.

"Cas..."

Silence.

"Please."

The silence remained unbroken.

Dean was alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**PART TWO**

The Giant

* * *

-1-

Cat and mouse. That's what this felt like. Except in a strange reversal of roles Dean was the mouse and whoever, whatever had Sam was the cat.

Dean sat in the Impala for a long while. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel. The music was off. It was quiet, save for the soft in and out of his breath and the steady beating of his heart in his ears.

The future loomed ahead of him. Uncertain. Dangerous. The possibility of losing Sam, really losing Sam, momentarily blinded him. His hands trembled. He drummed them against the steering wheel to hide the small shudders but it was a futile effort. He /knew/, even if he couldn't see, how afraid he was.

"Hang on Sammy." He murmured before he pushed the door open and stepped out into the cold night.

* * *

-2-

|Bellefonte, Kentucky|

Emmanuel Perry was not terribly fond of dirt. In fact, he was so incredibly disdainful of the stuff that he rarely left his home. Visitors were obliged to remain in the foyer and were never allowed further into the home. Deliveries (groceries, clothing, whatever he needed) were always left on the doorstep so he could carefully clean and inspect them prior to granting them admittance.

Perhaps if he had been a poor man his adversion to all things 'outside' would have been a problem but as it was he did not struggle to maintain a lifestyle that suited his needs.

Some days, if he was particularly lonely (which didn't happen often), he would stand by the window and look outside. His neighbors would do the things they did. Mow the lawn. Chat together on the sidewalk. Play. He would watch and wonder what it was like to be part of that world. Of course the more he watched the dirtier he felt and eventually he would close the curtains and shower just to wash the sensation away.

So of course it was most peculiar when he awoke one morning and found himself burdened with the overwhelming desire to open his front door. He never opened it without reason. Not unless he had a delivery to bring in, or a guest to welcome just into the foyer.

This morning, however, he got out of bed and went straight to the door. He didn't even change into his day clothes but instead came in his robe. His fingers trembled as he flung the door open.

On the doorstep stood a man. A man with golden eyes and a bloody face. Blood seemed to seep from every orifice of this man. His ears. His nose. His eyes. His mouth. He was a gruesome, terrifying sight to behold.

Instead of being disgusted or afraid, Emmanuel Perry was calm. He held his hands out, "I'm ready."

The bloody man smiled.

What happened next was not visible to the human eye. One moment Emmanuel Perry stood calmly before the bloody man, the next the bloody man's eyes turned to brown and his body fell to the floor.

The bloody man looked up at Emmanuel Perry's calm face, the face that had just moments before been his own, "What... what have you done?" he wheezed.

Emmanuel Perry's lips tilted in a smile much like that which had graced the bloody man's lips moments before.

"Your sacrifice will not go unrewarded."

Emmanuel Perry's body stepped outside of his home. If the neighbors had been outside they might have stared. Probably they would have been shocked. Perry had never left his home before. Not even once.

The bloody man, now containing Emmanuel's soul, lay on the doorstep, his body too weak and too torn up to move. He looked into the house, clean as ever and then he turned his head as much as he could so he could watch his body walk away.

The last thought to flicker through his damaged mind before the darkness took him was; It's going to take forever to get this blood out.

* * *

-3-

|Philadelphia, Pennsylvania|

A room of solid gold. 'This is new.' Sam thought as he allowed himself to be led further into what, until just moments before, he thought was an abandoned building. From the outside this was just a run down old factory; from the inside it was like a freaky Palace. Everything was gold. The floor, the walls, the support beams overhead.

The girl leading him pulled on his sleeve when he stopped to look at what appeared to be a golden statue of a dog.

Now would have been a good time to run but Sam already knew how powerful this seemingly ordinary female was. Back at his home she'd beat the tar out of him. Early on in the road trip when he tried to escape she'd roughed him up more.

He was resigned to being led around. Resigned to whatever fate was waiting.

"What is this place?" He asked.

Of course there was no answer.

"Dean is going to find me."

"Dean."

It seemed to be her favorite word. Whenever he said Dean's name she was like a recorder, repeating it over and over. "Yeah, Dean. He's going to come for me."

"Yes," this voice was new. Deep, smooth but cold, like warm chocolate poured over ice.

Sam stiffened, his instincts screamed at him to run. The girl had a tight grip on his arm. It was a reminder of how powerful she was and how screwed he was. 'Run,' his brain screamed at him, 'I can't!'

The source of the voice was a man. A giant of a man. At least seven feet tall. Broad shoulders. Hefty form. He seemed to be all muscle, all bone, all body. Sam wasn't used to having to look up. At anyone. But as this man glided across the room, Sam found himself having to tilt his head to maintain eye contact.

Golden eyes bore into him like two pinpoints of sunlight. Was it hot in here? It hadn't been a moment before.

"We had hoped he would," the giant murmured.

"You're after Dean?" Sam's stomach ached. How could he be so stupid? How could he have led Dean right here. Selfish. Stupid. Reckless. Of course something would be after Dean. Dean was still a hunter. Every minute of every day he was out there pissing off the worst of the world. He made it his mission to kill anything evil that moved on the face of the earth.

Sam should have known when the girl let him call Dean. He should have known when she let him use his real name. How had he gotten this useless? How had he missed the signs? But it was too late now. Too late to go back and correct his mistakes. Too late to do anything but wait and hope Dean knew what the hell to do.

"No," the giant's voice was like a purr. Sam wanted to trust that voice. Hell, he wanted to lean in and just... no. He pushed that thought away. No.

"Then...?" Sam's stomach flipped. They weren't after Dean? Then why would they want Dean to come?

"Take a seat, Sam Winchester. Take a seat and you shall see."

The girl pulled him to a nearby golden chair. It was hard, cold and uncomfortable but Sam sat. He sat and he waited.

There wasn't much else he could do.

'God Dean... what the hell is going on?'

* * *

-4-

|Secret Location, Everywhere|

Garth's pad was a work of art; at least he thought it was. Monitors lined the walls. Computers on every solid surface, each tracking and watching different projects. Phones in varying colors strewn throughout. Someone else might have seen his 'secret lair' and thought; what a mess. But Garth saw pure genius when he looked at his masterpiece.

Getting this setup hadn't been easy and it hadn't been cheap but by god he'd done it.

He was the new Bobby. Except, the new and improved version.

On his head, stinking to high hell, he wore Bobby's old cap. He hadn't washed it since Dean gave it back to him. Course it was starting to stink so bad even he was starting to think he might need to give it a little soak but honestly he was worried washing it would ruin it and subsequently ruin his good luck.

"Right," Garth chugged the last of his organic green kale smoothie and then rolled his chair across the room to Monitor One, "let's see what's happening in the world of weird."

A tap of the computer keyboard and half the monitors changed to news reports from across the country. All the major news networks playing, all at once.

Problem was, they were all playing the same story with different reporters.

Garth pushed his chair back, he stood, his heart hammered in his chest. "God," he breathed when he saw the headlines on every screen.

This was bad.

This was very bad.

|Terrorist Attack in Bellefonte, Kentucky. Over eight hundred dead.|

* * *

-5-

|Philadelphia, Pennsylvania|

Dean strode right through the front doors; shotgun in his hands, belt stuffed with knives and more guns. He told himself he was ready for whatever he found, a blatant lie but he had to lie to get through this. Of course, he didn't expect to find a building of solid gold.

Two steps in he faltered and took a second to absorb his shiny surroundings. "What the hell?"

"Dean?"

The place was an old factory. Stripped and open save for a few offices and the second floor loft which he couldn't see much of from his current position. He didn't have to look hard to find Sam; nor Sam's captor. A small woman stood beside where Sam sat. Dean lifted his shotgun and aimed.

"Let him go." He fully intended to shoot her. He didn't need to know who she was, what she was, but he'd shoot her if she didn't back down.

"Mr. Winchester," Dean hadn't noticed the giant lurking in the shadows. Now he shifted the shotgun, aiming instead at the giant. "Who the hell are you?"

"Now, now, no need to be upset. We are not enemies."

"Yeah, no, we are." Dean growled. His fingers shook. The shotgun trembled. Could they see? Did they know how afraid he was?

"You know," the giant walked, well, glided across the golden floor until he was standing near Sam, "I had heard stories about the great Dean Winchester. We all had."

Dean braced his feet and tried to steady the shotgun. He was letting the thing talk for now because he was trying to figure out what it was. Otherwise he would have shot already. As the thing talked his eyes darted from the giant, to the loft, from the giant, to the offices. They seemed to be alone but were there other things hiding in the shadows?

Why did his chest hurt?

Why couldn't be seem to breathe?

"God's chosen one. Michael's vessel. Hell's greatest victory. The human who tore his way out of purgatory. You've built up quite a name for yourself, actually."

Demon? No. This wasn't a demon. Didn't smell like one. Didn't look like one. An angel maybe? There hadn't been an angel on earth, so far as Dean knew, for a very long time. They disappeared when Cas did. Most days Dean figured that was partly Cas' doing. He could see Cas going back up and telling them all to lay off.

So what then?

A shifter?

"What are you?" Dean demanded, he was relieved to hear his voice steady and firm. Unlike the rest of him.

The giant waved his hand, "stories of your greatness were greatly exaggerated. I see that now."

The giant flicked his wrist. The shotgun flew out of Dean's grip. It took Dean a second to realize he no longer had his weapon. It happened so fast he couldn't even track the shotgun's trajectory. Where had it gone? He really had no idea. He let out his breath in the briefest of sighs.

Plan B, then?

Shit. He didn't /have/ a Plan B.

/What are you doing, Winchester?/ He berated himself, /what were you thinking when you came in here. Half-cocked. Unprepared./

/Sam./

He'd been thinking about Sam. Everything else, his training, his reason, it all took back stage when it came to Sam.

"No need for that. It can't hurt us anyway," the giant said.

He could have pulled out another weapon but Dean was starting to understand there was no point. He dropped his hands and shrugged, "Right. So... now what?" He was resigned. He was ready to die if it meant Sam would be released.

"Call to him."

"What?" His brain struggled to catch up. Call to him? Call to who? Who could this beast mean?

Suddenly the giant was neither calm nor quiet. Now he was shouting and practically frothing, "CALL HIM!" He took a step towards Dean.

"Oh for frick's sake..." Dean stood his ground, "WHO?"

"The great destroyer! The abomination who dared to call himself god! THE DEFILER!"

"Castiel," Dean said softly. Realization hit him hard. He felt dizzy. His hands shook so hard now even if he wanted to grab his pistol he doubted his hands could grasp it.

"CALL HIM! Pray to him. Bring him to us!"

Definitely angels. Two crazy, warped, gold worshipping angels. His stomach lurched. He worried he might just puke. Right here. Right in front of them all. There was no way he could take on angels. Not anymore. He didn't have the tools or the equipment or the appropriate backup. This was it. This was how he was going to die.

He shook his head, "He won't come."

"Call him," the giant moved. In the blink of an eye he loomed over Dean. He grabbed the front of Dean's shirt and lifted him up, up, up. Absurdly Dean found himself thinking; so this is what the world looks like to Sam.

"He won't come." Dean grabbed the giant's wrists. He tried to fight, tried to struggle free but it was useless. In a moment of stark honesty he admitted that part of him wanted to die. He just didn't want to go out like this.

"PRAY TO HIM!"

The giant shook Dean so hard that the world momentarily faded to black. When things flickered back to clarity the giant was growling at him. Like an animal.

"Go. To. Hell." Dean spat.

It was foolish. It was stupid. It was reckless. Dean didn't care. He fumbled for the knife holder at his waist. His shaking fingers gripped the knife hilt and he stabbed Ruby's knife right into the giant's heart. The angel didn't even flinch. Dean wasn't surprised. He couldn't go out without some kind of fight though.

"Fine." The giant's lips curled in a snarl that made Dean's blood run cold, "then you die."

/Not like this./ Dean thought, /I want to die but not like this./

* * *

-6-

Death didn't hold the sting it used to. The first time Dean went to Hell, Sam had been devastated. That first loss hit him so hard. He went crazy for awhile, crazy with grief. The second time Dean disappeared things had been different. It hurt, but not the same way. It was shocking, but not as much. Maybe something inside of him had broken that first time and so that second death hadn't been as hard a blow.

This time, watching the giant literally squeeze the life out of Dean, Sam just felt disconnected. He tried to intervene. He jumped up with a shout, but the girl grabbed him. With two hits he found himself on the ground, his spine numb. He landed in the perfect position to watch as the giant snapped Dean's neck.

Dean fell to the floor in a dead heap.

Sam didn't cry. In that moment he didn't feel much of anything.

Maybe this felt too much like a dream for him to believe it.

Maybe he knew he was dying too, so soon there wouldn't be anything to feel.

"Dean." He whispered.

The room shook. Once dimly lit, a bright light suddenly came upon them. A light so bright Sam could see nothing but white. When the light faded someone new was with them.

A man.

In a beige trenchcoat.

He stood between Dean and the giant.

"Hello Castiel," the giant said.

Castiel said nothing in response. He lifted his hand. Sam had time to register a scream from the female, a flinch from the giant, and then the world was gone.

The last coherent thought he had before consciousness slipped away was; /I knew he'd come./

* * *

-7-

|Covington, Kentucky|

When Dean woke it was to a sore neck, aching head and numb limbs. He opened one eye, then the other. The room was lit by a single lamp. Good thing too, even that light seemed to burn.

He sat up with some trouble and took a moment to take in his surroundings. Two beds. Rough worn dresser. Old tube style television. Grimy brown curtains hanging next to the door. Another door which probably led to a bathroom. He was in a hotel room.

Memories came slow. An old factory. Golden walls. The certainty that he was about to die.

The bathroom door opened and Sam stepped out in nothing but a towel around his waist and a towel over his wet head. Sam smiled, "Hi Dean."

"This is my heaven?" Dean figured his heaven was going to be messed up but this was seriously disappointing. Sam? In a towel? Really? This was his reward?

Sam chuckled, "No, Dean. You're not dead."

Dean pressed his hand against his neck, "So what happened?" He distinctly remembered his neck snapping. Could he remember that? No, he was sure his neck had been snapped.

"Castiel happened," Sam's smile faded.

"What?" Dean's hand stilled and then slowly slid down his neck to drop in his lap.

"Right after that... thing snapped your neck, Castiel lit the joint up, snapped us here and then disappeared."

"Castiel?" Castiel showed up? Dean swung his legs off the bed, "Where is he?" His heart pounded with urgent purpose. Cas. That was a name he never expected to hear again. A soul he never expected to meet.

"Dean, he just... he left." Sam said apologetically. As if it was somehow his fault.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Dean..."

"Goddamn it!" Dean ran his fingers into his hair. He pulled. The mild pain helped him focus, "So Castiel shows up, ganks the bad guys and just drops us here? After bringing me back to life? But not a freaking word? Not a hello? Not a how are ya?"

Betrayal.

It felt like a betrayal.

Sam let the towel he'd been using on his hair fall to his shoulders, "I'm sorry Dean."

Dean let his hands drop. He took a moment to study his brother's bruised face and body for that matter. "Cas did a piss poor job fixing us up this time." Either that or he hadn't bothered to heal any of Sam's wounds. He'd stopped long enough to be sure Dean was alive and then he left. Again.

Sam shrugged, "At least we're alive."

"Yeah, at least there's that..." Not that he wanted to be alive. /Stop that./ He berated himself. /Stop it./ Crazy talk. Of course he wanted to be alive. Of course he did. Dean waved his right hand, "Come on."

Sam's ridiculously long legs closed the space between them in two easy steps. Dean grabbed his little, well, younger brother in a tight hug. The hug didn't last as long as it normally might have. Dean stepped back, slapping Sam in the arm as he did, "How the hell did you get kidnapped by a freaking angel?"

"Why the hell did you charge into an ambush like that? Are you stupid?" Sam responded.

But they weren't angry. Not really. Dean sat on the bed and told Sam about his last few days while Sam changed and when he was done Sam sat on the bed across from him and did his own telling.

For the first time in a long time the Winchester brothers were back together, and in that moment the rest of the world be damned. They were happy.

As happy as they could be.

* * *

-8-

"Dean! What the hell man? Why haven't you been answering your phone?"

"Garth?"

"Dean we got trouble. Big trouble. Like apocalyptic sized trouble!"

"Slow down, man. What's up?"

"We got some nasty kinda monster laying waste to anything that breathes. It basically chewed up three towns already."

Garth was on speaker. Dean looked up and met Sam's gaze. "We gonna do this little brother?"

Sam shook his head, "I'm not a hunter anymore, Dean."

"C'mon," Dean smirked.

"Dean... it's been years."

"Sam."

"Dean..."

Dean smiled, "Sam and I are on it Garth. Tell us everything you know."


	3. Chapter 3

PART THREE  
Castiel

-1-

_What did it feel like when you ripped out your grace?_

_It hurt._

The vessel was marked. It took him a few days to notice. The Seraphim had left a stain that nothing could wash away. They hounded him. They stalked him. They were everywhere he went. Every step of the way he fought back, pushing them away, only to be tackled again.

Would it ever end?

He had his doubts.

And then he found it. The mark. It was a wound that wouldn't heal. Not painful, not noticeable, but a beacon to the Holy Ones. The vessel had to be abandoned.

Jimmy Novak had long since died. His body lived on eternally thanks to Castiel's intervention, but when Castiel abandoned it, the body would be rendered useless. It was with great hesitation, and a strange pain in his heart, that Castiel left the vessel that had been his for so long.

In his true form, neither male nor female instead energy beyond human comprehension, he left his old vessel and went in search of a new one.

-2-

"Seraphim," Sam turned his laptop so Dean could get a look at the screen, "keepers of god's throne."

"Are you kidding?" Dean crouched down. He wasn't as fast at reading as Sammy but he skimmed the article for all the greatest hits.

"That warehouse they took us to, the inside had been turned to pure gold, that's symbolic. Well, in heaven it's symbolic but here on earth their power manifests in this way. They're nameless, faceless creatures that never leave god's side."

"So what are they doing here?"

Sam shrugged, "That's the tricky part. Near as I can tell they shouldn't be and wouldn't be."

"They guard the throne of god, and never leave his side... and they were looking for Cas."

"That was a long time ago," Sam said, he knew what Dean was hinting at but Cas wasn't playing god these days, "I doubt it's because of that."

"Why the killing spree?"

"I don't know, far as I can tell these aren't exactly warrior angels. Not in the typical sense. I mean, they guard god's throne but nobody ever sees them..."

"Because nobody ever sees god," Dean grabbed his beer, which he'd left on the floor nearby, "Basically we got nothin'."

Sam shrugged, "Sorry Dean."

A quick glance at his phone verified that there were no calls or messages from Garth either, which meant Garth was in the same boat. Dean chuckled as he dropped his phone. Sam looked at him, eyebrows raised. Dean shrugged, "I gotta admit I missed this. A proper unknown target. An enemy with some real oomph."

"People are dying, Dean."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah and it's terrible. It's just..." Dean took a long swig of his beer, "things have been real easy lately. I won't lie, it's nice. It's good, but..." _empty._

Sam was looking at him like he'd grown an extra head now and he understood why. For Sam quiet and normal was good. That was peace. For Dean... well, Dean liked the battle. He liked the rush of adrenaline. He liked a challenge.

Especially these days when quiet meant thinking and thinking meant remembering and remembering meant...

He stopped the thought before it could finish. "It's funny, before all this went down I was thinking; Just once I want a simple job. Just me, a hatchet and some vampire heads. Now here I am excited because this is anything _but_ quiet."

"Sometimes I think you've been hit one too many times in the head."

Dean laughed, "Or I've just died one too many times."

"Sounds about right."

They planned to leave in the morning. The next step was simple. Go to the 'crime scenes' and see if they could find any clues. At this point the likelihood of finding anything was pretty much null and void but they really didn't have any idea where else to start.

Dean couldn't sleep. Before the dark was a welcome refuge. In the dark he could pretend he wasn't alone. He could fool himself into believing Sammy was in the bed next to his. Now the dark was a deceitful trickster. Was Sammy really there? If he listened very carefully he could hear the slow in and out of Sam's breath but it wasn't enough.

A few more days laying wide awake while Sam slept wouldn't hurt but damned if Dean wasn't getting tired of it. He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

Just when he started to relax it was there again, the doubt. The fear. Gnawing at the back of his brain like a cancer that grew and grew until it consumed him. Finally he had enough. Sam didn't stir when Dean crawled onto the bed beside him. Unlike his older brother, Sam was peacefully asleep.

In the morning this would probably lead to an awkward conversation. Maybe Sam would ask questions, Dean would probably come up with some stupid lie to cover up the truth. For now, however, Dean could finally relax. With Sam's arm pressed against his own, Sam's breath loud and clear, Dean was able to let it all go.

In moments he drifted into an uneasy rest.

"Stop looking at me like that," Dean spoke around the king sized gargantuan breakfast sandwich he'd ordered.

Sam looked away, for a minute, "Dean... you crawled into my bed last night."

"I told you, I was sleep walking," Dean shoved more sandwich in.

"Sleep snuggling?"

"We didn't snuggle," Dean straightened up and looked Sam dead in the eye, "we did _not_ snuggle."

Sam's skepticism was so plainly visible that it was annoying. Dean held up his finger, "We didn't," he repeated firmly, despite the food in his mouth.

Sam shrugged, "Fine."

-3-

**Lincoln, Illinois**

"And please take care of Fluffy. Amen." Emily Porter crossed herself exactly three times, then she leaned back and stared up and up at the crucifix towering over her. There was no way to tell for sure but she felt like god had heard her prayers.

As she sat in silence, listening to the soft noises of the church, a few people in the back speaking softly to each other, the priest's voice carrying out of the confessional booth, she became aware of a curious warmth.

It started at her spine and worked it's way up her back and then around her chest. Like a coat. A warm coat. The nave suddenly seemed impossibly bright. Like the sun was resting directly above her.

_Emily_. The voice spoke inside of her. Not her own. A voice that was like nothing she'd ever heard before. Was it male? Was it female? What _was_ it? She didn't know.

Terrified she slid to back to her knees. She ducked her head and pressed her hands together, "Yes, Lord?"

_I am an angel of the lord and I need your help._

-4-

**Bellefonte, Kentucky**

The town was empty. Those who had survived the attack had long since left. There were still some investigation crews milling about and more than a few news vehicles but for the most part driving into Bellefonte was like driving into a ghost town.

It took the Winchester's all of twenty minutes to integrate themselves and after that it wasn't hard to get the whole story.

A local resident, Emmanuel Perry, a recluse who hadn't set foot outside of his home in years, had woken up one morning and decided to slaughter everyone. Literally, everyone. No one really knew how he'd done it. There were reports of bullets bouncing off of him, other reports of people dropping dead at the mere sight of him, but of course those reports were considered nothing but ridiculous fantasy.

The Winchester's, of course, knew better.

They started their investigation properly at Emmanuel Perry's home, where the dead body of an unknown had been discovered on the doorstep.

The house held no clues. Perry, it seemed, was an obessive cleaner. Dust, dirt, mess of any kind was foreign to this particular house. In the end there wasn't anything even remotely out of the ordinary beyond the unnatural cleanliness of the place. Not a single book of magic, no angel figurines, nothing. The guy was a regular, boring human, judging by his home.

It was as they were leaving that Dean noticed the markings. "Sam."

Just inside the door, near the boot rack. From most angles it looked like blood stains but Dean happened to look at it just right as they tried to leave the house.

"Does that look like words to you?" Dean pointed at the stains.

Sam tilted his head, he crouched down. "Yeah... they said they found a body on the doorstep... maybe he tried to write something down before he died."

"What's that look like?" Dean could make out a few letters but the marks were smeared and nearly incomprehensible.

"I think... I think it says... I obeyed."

"I obeyed?" Dean repeated.

"I'm pretty sure..."

"Not the most helpful dying message."

"Dean. Sam." She stood at the bottom of the porch steps. She was young, seventeen, maybe eighteen. Pretty but plain too. She wore an ankle length skirt and plain t-shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. She was just a kid, but a kid with a rather intense stare.

Sam stood. Dean instinctively reached for the gun at his belt. "Yeah? Who's asking?"

"They are unable to manifest in the physical world without a host but there is no host alive that can contain them. Their power is too great," the girl said, her voice gravelly and strangely familiar.

"They... being...?" Sam prompted. He had a feeling they were talking to an angel now but these days it wasn't so easy to tell.

"The Seraphim. They are after me. I need your help."

"Cas?" Dean's hand fell to his side.

"Hello Dean." And with that the girl's eyes rolled up into her head and she slumped to the ground.

-5-

**Ashland, Kentucky**

As dysfunctional family reunions went, this one was pretty freaking awkward. Dean sat on the very edge of the bed, his eyes glued to the small female form on the opposite bed. Sam sat on the nearby couch, his eyes darting from the laptop to Dean, to the girl, to the laptop. It was hard to focus. What was there to even focus on?

"You think it's really Cas?" Dean asked, "You think he's in there?"

"Dean... I..." Sam sighed and pushed the laptop closed. Who was he fooling? "I don't know."

Dean's knee started to bounce. His hands pressed against his thighs, bounced against his knees, gripped the bed then found their way back to his thighs. Excitement, fear, anger. It was all boiling up inside him, growing and growing until he wanted to just shake the stupid girl until she woke. Until she confirmed who... what she was.

The girl stirred. Her eyes fluttered and then opened. Dean stilled, Sam sat straighter. For a moment, just a moment, the world seemed to freeze. "Cas?" Dean said softly.

"Dean," the girl sat up slowly. The way she moved, it was like Cas. It was so hard to tell for sure, Dean wanted to believe it and yet he was having trouble with it too.

Dean didn't know what to say. Suddenly it felt like his brain had forgotten how to form words. He slouched forward, his eyes on the girl, his expression somewhere between pain and wary caution.

"We don't have much time," the girl looked at Dean but then focused her attention on Sam, "if I remain in this vessel too long she will be irrevocably damaged."

"Why are you in her in the first place?" Sam asked.

"They marked my former vessel. I was forced to take a new one." Cas explained and it was strange to hear that feminine voice speaking with Castiel's gravelly tone.

"They?"

"The Seraphim."

"You said they're after you. Why?"

Castiel's eyes slowly moved to Dean. It seemed like he might answer, but then he focused on Sam again and when he spoke it wasn't to answer Sam's question, "I require your assistance."

"Anything, Cas," Dean finally found his voice, he spoke roughly, shortly, "anything."

"There is one thing that can stop them. One thing alone."

"And you know what it is, but not where it is... right?"

Castiel stared at Sam. Even after all this time it was still easy to read him. He was surprised. He didn't know how Sam could read his thoughts. He didn't understand, even now, just how sharp humans could be. Sam smiled, "why else would you be here Cas? If you knew where it was, you would have just taken it yourself, right?"

"There is another problem. Only a human can wield it." Castiel revealed.

"All right. What is it? Where do we start?" Sam pulled the laptop lid up and started his web browser.

"The Eye of Bethel."

"Here," Dean shrugged off his coat and lightly dropped it onto Castiel's shoulders.

Castiel was used to looking up at Dean, but not quite this much. He wasn't cold, while in a vessel his angelic nature maintained and kept the vessel in perfect condition at all times and in all surroundings, but he didn't reject the coat. Instead he pushed his arms through the sleeves, "Thank you."

Inside the room Sam was on the phone with Garth. They were working out just what the Eye of Bethel was and whether or not there was any information on it. Dean had stepped outside for some air and like the sick twisted thing he was, Castiel had followed along.

Dean leaned his arms on the railing of the balcony. They were on the second floor of the motel. Below he could see a broken down junk heap of a truck, the Impala and another white Ford. High above the moon shone unhindered. It was a cloudless night.

"There are a lot of things I don't understand," Dean said softly, "and a lot of things I want to ask."

"Then ask."

"Where the hell have you been?"

Castiel stood beside Dean. His eyes wandered here and there, taking in the buildings, the vehicles, the sky, everything but Dean. "I did warn you I would be gone some time."

"Years, Cas. When you said you needed time to heal I figured you meant a couple weeks. A month. A year. But it's been years. Without a word. Without..." Dean's hands clenched into tight fists.

"When I returned to heaven," Castiel rested his hand on the railing, near Dean's arm but not so near there was any danger of them touching. It was strange to see such delicate fingers. He really had bonded with his former vessel. He really felt like a human male, despite what he truly was. Despite everything, "time ceased to exist."

"I prayed. I begged you to come back," Dean growled.

"I heard you," Castiel tilted his head back. High above the stars twinkled. So far away, so oblivious, so disconnected from this moment and yet apart of it. He had forgotten what this place was like. What this world was like.

"And you just ignored me?"

"You are..." Castiel finally turned his eyes to Dean, "too great a temptation."

Dean straightened up at that. He turned to face Castiel properly, "What?"

Castiel lifted his hand. He pressed his fingers to Dean's neck. A brief surge of power and the last of Dean's injuries finally faded. The bruises. The pain in his neck. The pain in his back. It all faded to nothing. When Castiel dropped his hand, Dean looked two shades less pale, and Castiel looked two shades paler. He didn't have the energy for healing, but of course the urge to help Dean was more than he could control. Reason had no place when Dean was around.

And that was the problem. That had always been the problem.

Whatever allure Dean held, it drove Castiel to madness time and again.

The motel room door opened. Sam blinked at them, aware that he'd just interrupted and feeling awkard when he saw how close they were standing, how intently they were staring at each other. "So... I think we found something."

-6-

**Minnesota**

The vessel lay dead and broken on the ground. Two stood beside it, staring down at it blankly. He arrived in a flash of light. He walked with a limp now, his vessel had been damaged in the last meeting with Castiel.

"He has abandoned the vessel," the giant said.

"What do we do now?"

"Find the Winchester's. Find them and kill them. It will rouse him from hiding."

"We will."

The giant waved his hand and the Two disappeared. The giant considered the abandoned vessel. He thought of taking it and keeping it but what would be the point? Humans maintained sentimentality, angels did not. Castiel had once been one of the greatest of their number. He would not hold any particular attachment to an abandoned vessel.

There was nothing left here to see, so with a flash the giant was gone and Jimmy Novak's body was left alone once more, abandoned and ready to rot.

-7-

**Ashland, Kentucky**

To be constrained by time was uncomfortable. The night wore on and as it did the Winchester's wore out. Soon they required rest. Sam first and after much pretending not to need it, Dean. Castiel sat on the couch in his new vessel. He watched them, well, he watched _him_ sleep.

His sleep was not restful. His brow furrowed. He twitched. He moaned. He shifted and moaned again. Castiel's human eyes could not see in the darkness as well as his angelic vision would have, but enough of his true nature seeped out for him to see Dean's face. See the way his fingers trembled, his mouth twisted, his brow furrowed and relaxed.

The vessel was weak. He could feel the mind within rotting with every moment. If he remained much longer she would be reduced to nothing. The damage would be too complete.

Such a thing wouldn't have bothered him before. These days many things bothered him. His existence. Dean's absence.

That's why he was here. Why he had called down the guardians of god's throne. Why so many had died and why so many more were going to die.

Dean.

It was all because of Dean.

And much as he knew it was wrong, as much as he wanted to make things right, he wouldn't turn back now.


	4. Chapter 4

PART FOUR  
Longing

-1-

Sleep didn't come easy, or long. He drifted off a few times but each time he did it was to fall into nightmares.

If Castiel hadn't been there, he might have crawled into Sam's bed again. Knowing Sam, Sam would tolerate it without question this time around.

When had he gotten so needy? Or had he always been so needy and just never had the courage to face it? Sam was the independent one, truth be told. Sam didn't need anyone. Not dad, not Dean, not Cas. He was content to go it on his own and face the human world head on. Dean wasn't like that. From the get go he relied heavily on those he loved.

When they were all together, Dean, Sam and Dad, that had been the perfect world for Dean. Those days he had truly been happy. When Sam left them that had been the first blow. Then Dad died. Things were never the same, even after Sam was at his side again. Sam was never really invested. Not the same way Dean was invested.

For Sam, Dean was family, but Dean wasn't everything.

For Dean, Sam was his entire world. He would die for Sam. He would live for Sam. He would do anything for Sam. He didn't need anything else as long as he had Sam. The problem was, Sam never felt the same way.

When Castiel came into his life things had hit a low that Dean didn't think he could ever lift himself out of. Dragged from the pit of hell, where he witnessed parts of himself that he'd never wanted to witness, dragged into a world where he started to realize Sam would _never_ be as loyal to him as he was to Sam and straight into the middle of the apocalypse. It hadn't been a good place but Castiel... well, Castiel was loyal.

He could remember the first time Sam called out to Cas with no answer. The first time Cas came for Dean but not for Sam. It shouldn't have pleased Dean, it should have made him angry but instead it started something. The Leviathans, Purgatory... the ups, the downs... all of it pushed them closer and closer until Castiel became as much family as Sam... if not more.

These past few years Dean had adapted. He'd learned how to be alone but it made him miserable. It wasn't how he was wired to function. It wasn't what he wanted out of life. It wasn't him.

It killed him to know that when this was over Sam would leave, Castiel would disappear and he'd be alone yet again.

It was nearly noon when the Winchester's woke. When Sam stirred, Dean pretended to wake as well. Dean had been awake for some time but he wasn't willing to face Cas alone. The night had driven a wedge of fear in his heart. A fear he didn't understand and didn't care to face just yet.

They weren't alone but the little girl Cas had been possessing yesterday was gone. In her place was a wide, pock faced, bald, pot-bellied hillbilly. Complete with no shirt, suspender straps and a piece of straw tucked behind his ear.

Sam reacted first, grabbing for the gun tucked under his pillow with impressive speed for someone who hadn't been in the business for a long time.

The hillbilly stared at him blankly. Come to think of it, he sat rather straight for someone with that particular build. Dean knew, he knew without the hillbilly having to speak, he knew without needing any confirmation of any sort, that this hillbilly was Cas.

"Seriously, Cas?" Dean shook his head, "this is the vessel you choose?"

"The girl proved to be too weak to contain me," Castiel answered, his voice now had a strange drawl to it. Still, it was Castiel's voice, just with a new filter.

"About that," Sam reluctantly lay his gun down but he was staring at Castiel's new form with a mixture of amusement and disbelief, "since when do vessels deteriorate so quickly for you?"

Since when did he care if he damaged the host? Castiel hadn't seemed too concerned about that sort of thing before, when he voluntarily took Novak and then Novak's daughter. In the end Castiel's possession of Novak had cost Novak his life, and honestly Sam couldn't remember seeing even the barest hint of remorse in Castiel over that.

Castiel had a secret. It was easy to see in the long silence before he spoke and in the awkward way in which he shifted his eyes. It was good to know he was still lousy at hiding things, "It's complicated."

"So explain it. We got time." Dean pressed.

"No, we don't."

"Right, you're a marked man."

"And I'm willing to bet we are too. They already came for you once Dean, they'll probably come again," Sam slid off the bed and stretched, "may as well find that Eye of Bethel before those Seraphim find us."

-2-

Dean smelled. So did Sam. So did he. Castiel was unused to humanity. It felt foreign to him. All those years ago, time that may as well have been a millenium, before he left this place, he had been so used to humanity that he stopped noticing the little things.

Now the little things were like glaring obvious signs. They were everywhere. The touch of the car seat beneath fingers that seemed perpetually sweaty. The uncomfortable sensation of sweat and rash forming between the folds of his stomach. The scent of Dean. The different scent of Sam. The obnoxious scent of his vessel. These were things humans probably didn't notice. They were surrounded by these things all the time. These things they took for granted.

Castiel sat in the center of the back seat. In this position he could watch the road ahead and through the rear view mirror he could see the road behind but also... every now and then, he could catch Dean's eyes. When that happened Dean would look away, but so would Castiel.

This was something else he'd forgotten. The pull of attraction.

_I love you, man._

_I know._

_No. I _love_ you._

In the beginning, almost as soon as man had been created, angels and men were allowed to walk amongst each other. Castiel had never been one of those who chose a life on earth but he had been there. He had witnessed the way his siblings changed. The more they were with the humans, the more strange they became until finally humans and angels began to love in ways that they weren't meant to love.

It was forbidden. It was against the Father's law and so they were separated. The angels banned to forever live in the spiritual realm alone and the humans denied the presence of the angels they had grown to so love.

All those millenia ago Castiel had not understood. It seemed like a madness, a sickness. He watched his siblings change. He watched them weep and moan and then he watched them fall.

One by one.

Sacrifice after sacrifice.

And for what? To live a limited life with the humans they had come to adore.

Castiel never thought he would understand. He thought this was a madness that would forever be foreign to him.

Eyes in the rearview mirror. A brief connection and then Dean looked away. Castiel continued to look into the mirror. He waited for those brief glances. In those seconds when their eyes met he felt something. And he wanted to feel it more.

-3-

**Madison, Wisconsin**

The Eye of Bethel was no easy thing to track down. History had forgotten it. Somewhere along the way it had fallen into myth and legend. Stories of its location varied. Some stories said it had been lost to the Persians. Some said a dragon had taken it over the seas, but never specifying which seas. And then there were the stories that involved the American continent and it was those stories Sam and Garth decided to focus on.

At first Dean didn't ask where they were going. He got in the car and he drove. At the end of the day when they took a hotel room in Madison, he finally seemed to take interest in the situation at hand, "Where exactly is this Eye of Bethel?"

"Canada," Sam said quickly. He grabbed their bag from the trunk and headed towards the hotel.

"Wait, what? _Canada_?"

Castiel tried to pull his large vessel out of the back seat of the Impala with some difficulty. The vessel didn't exactly fit in the first place, so getting out was a bit like trying to pull a square through a round hole.

Both Dean and Sam abandoned him while he continued trying to squeeze his way out.

"It's the closest location," Sam said as he looked for their room number. They were on the first floor this time. Room 104.

"Canada!" Dean grabbed Sam's arm, "polar bears. Igloos. Freaking Sasquatches Canada?"

Sam tried to fight back the smirk that was attempting to tilt his lips, "There are at least six possible locations for this Eye of Bethel. Five of those are overseas. One of them is in Canada."

"Right, so we check the other five."

"How, exactly? We don't have working passports Dean. It's one thing to carry fake badges, but the way airport security is these days we'd get caught for sure with fake ID."

"Cas can zap us."

"Cas?" Sam looked back to where Castiel had managed to wedge himself halfway out of the back seat. His leg was caught between the driver's seat and the back seat. He hopped and wiggled and tried to unstick himself. "I don't know if you noticed Dean, but something's wrong with Cas."

Dean looked back too and despite everything he had to laugh, "Bit like watching a whale try to swim in a kiddie pool isn't it?"

"Maybe you should help him."

Dean grabbed the key from Sam's hand and then the bag, "You help him."

Cas' leg came free and he tumbled to the ground, landing in an ungraceful heap. "All right, Cas?" Sam called.

"I appear to be unbalanced." Castiel responded calmly.

"Yeah... need help?"

"I am capable of rising on my own."

"Here's hoping he gets a new vessel soon," Dean muttered as he unlocked the door and headed into their room.

"What _is_ the Eye of Bethel?" Dean asked once they had settled into their room.

Castiel stood near the door, a curious frown fixed on his usually expressionless face. "No idea," Sam said, "Garth and I couldn't figure that out. I mean, this thing is so obscure that the few stories that DO mention it are just fragments. It sounds like some creature a millenium ago used it to kill a giant but that's all we got."

"It belonged to Bethel, one of the host of Cherubim," Castiel said, "Bethel was the first to choose humanity over heaven."

"So it's actually an eye?" Sam asked.

"You might call it that. It's more like... the physical manifestation of Bethel's heart." Castiel shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, "I believe this vessel is damaged."

"So the eye is a heart, what does that mean?" Dean ignored the last part, he ignored how pale Castiel's vessel was looking, he ignored the worry gnawing at his insides. _Focus_. Focus on something other then the fact that even now, even though he was in _that_, Dean still felt drawn to Cas.

"Your vessel is damaged?" Sam, however,was more concerned about Castiel than the mission.

"When Bethel fell, a piece of him tore apart. The piece that belonged to heaven."

"His grace?"

"No. His heart. The heart that loved our father. The heart that loved us all. It was lost. Dropped into the hands of humans and never seen again."

"What does it do?"

Castiel twitched. It was small, barely there but Dean saw it. "It will give you the power to kill the Seraphim."

"How?"

"I do not know exactly how it works."

Now Dean _knew_ Castiel was lying. He glanced at Sam and judging by the look on Sam's face, Sam knew it too.

"Where is it, Cas?"

"I don't know. Angels can't see it. They can't hold it. They can't use it."

"So we have to search all five of these locations and just hope one of them is right?" Dean shook his head, "this could go faster if you just zapped us where we need to go."

"If I do that, it will immediately reveal our location. I can't use my powers. Not now."

Sam nodded, "To Canada it is."

"And if it's not in Canada?"

"We figure out a way to fly."

"Cas," that sorted, Sam switched back to Castiel's earlier statement, "how is your vessel damaged?"

"The scent of it is foul."

"It's called sweat," Sam smiled, "and you're right. It's pretty foul. Go shower. You'll smell better after."

This. This right here, was driving Dean to insanity. How was this possible? How was this even a thing? They were alone. In the bathroom the pipes were creaking and groaning while Sam showered. Castiel's hillbilly vessel was cleaned up, half naked and seated on the couch. Castiel's eyes were glued to the television.

The news wasn't good. More mass murders throughout the country. People were dropping dead like flies. Dean didn't even care. One thing and one thing alone was consuming his focus now.

How. Was. This. A. Thing?

How could he be looking at _that_ body and be feeling _this?_

How could he want _that_?

"You'll need a new vessel soon?" He asked.

Castiel barely glanced up from the television, "This vessel appears to be handling the strain of my presence better than the last."

_Damn._ Dean stood, "I'm heading out."

"Where?"

"To get something to eat. Tell Sam would you?"

"Very well."

He couldn't get out quickly enough. Once outside he realized he didn't have his jacket and he hadn't seen it since the day before when he gave it to Cas. The thought of going back in to look for it was more disturbing than just sucking it up and bearing the cold.

-4-

"Where's Dean?" Sam emerged from the bathroom fully dressed. Something about Castiel made him self conscious. Maybe it was because the guy was an angel, the purest being there was.

"He said he was going to get something to eat," Castiel said, "how do you work this?"

Sam took the remote from Castiel's hand, "this changes the channel. This adjusts the volume."

"Ah."

Sam might have asked why Castiel couldn't just will the channels to change but he didn't. Instead he rubbed the towel through his hair until he stopped dripping. He glanced at the television long enough to catch a brief headline from a news station as Castiel flipped indiscriminately through the channels.

"More attacks?"

"They aren't attacking."

"But... people are dying."

"Their presence alone is enough to drive the sinful to death," Castiel said.

"I met them."

"Yes."

"I didn't die."

"Yes."

"... how am I not sinful?"

"You are not exactly human."

"I'm not human?"

"Not anymore," Castiel set the remote down. On the television an episode of Maury was playing out. A busty woman in a short skirt and tube top was screaming at some other woman. Castiel watched with intense concentration.

"Because of the demon blood."

"You are more demon than human, yes."

"Are you serious?"

Castiel looked over at Sam. Sam's expression was twisted with disbelief and pain, "I'm sorry Sam."

"What about Dean?" Sam asked with difficulty, "he met them too. He didn't die."

Castiel's eyes flickered away. He shifted uneasily. "Dean's soul is pure."

"Dean's soul is pure?" Sam repeated.

"Yes."

It always had been. Like most humans Dean made bad choices. He had made exceptionally bad choices in Hell, and on earth. His motivations were always good. His heart was always good. Dean was the most pure human Castiel had ever met. That was part of the problem. Perhaps if he had been any less than he was, Castiel might have found him as other as any other human. Instead Dean had a soul that, in some ways, matched Castiel's own.

Sam had trouble wrapping his head around this particular revelation so he fell into silence. Castiel returned his attention to Maury and the screaming women and they sat in mutual quiet, waiting for Dean to get back.

-5-

"How much longer are you going to be in that particular vessel Cas?" Dean asked yet again after watching Castiel spend a good ten minutes squeezing into the Impala. Part of him feared the Impala was going to be hopelessly stretched after all of this but he didn't pay too much attention to that part.

"He should last another day or two."

"Maybe... it would be better to get a new host sooner," Dean suggested delicately as he eased into the driver's seat.

"You believe the vessel is damaged?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure he's looking a bit pale. You should get a new one."

"I don't believe he's damaged. Just sweaty."

"I'm pretty sure he is."

Castiel considered the validity of Dean's statement. The vessel didn't feel damaged but it was difficult to tell. His judgment these days wasn't what it had been. He was distracted, but also he had difficulty saying no to anything Dean suggested. Even this.

"Very well," he crawled back out of the vehicle.

"Wait," Sam turned in his seat, "What are you doing now?"

"Give me a few moments."

They saw it, the moment Castiel's true form left the hillbilly. A bright light clouded their vision, they both instinctively closed their eyes, a curious warmth washed over the area, an intense ringing filled their ears. The windows on the Impala shattered. Dean swore. Sam did too.

When it was over the hillbilly lay on the ground, the Impala was left completely devastated and Castiel was gone.

"Are you freaking kidding me!" Dean cried out, slamming his hands against the steering wheel in anger.

-6-

"Why did he leave?" Hours later, when Castiel wasn't back and the Impala was in the shop getting her windows replaced, Sam and Dean found themselves alone in the hotel room.

The hillbilly turned out to be a mechanic from Ohio named Derk. He was no worse for wear but he was crazy confused. He remembered Castiel and agreeing to let Castiel use his body. He was just surprised an 'angel of the lord' would take him to Ohio.

'What's in Ohio?' he asked, 'are you angels too?'

Sam took the guy to the local bus depot, bought him a ticket home and sent him on his way. And then they waited.

And waited.

And waited.

"To get a new vessel," Dean angrily threw clothes out of his duffel bag. No sign of his jacket, yet.

"No, I mean before. When I left you, Dean, I thought you had Cas. It seemed like... well, it kind of seemed like he intended to stay."

Dean winced, "I don't know."

"Right," Sam stood, "well, want to get something to eat?"

"God yes."

The local pub was pretty much a dive. It was early in the night so there were only a few customers. Sam ordered his usual douchey meal, Dean ordered a massive plate of chicken fingers and fries.

While they ate people began to trickle in. Sam knew Dean was different. He knew they'd both changed over the years. He didn't realize how different until a gorgeous female in the tightest dress he'd ever seen strode past, casting a little smile at Dean as she went.

An open invitation like that a few years ago would have had Dean practically salivating. Now Dean didn't even notice.

"Are you all right?" Sam asked.

Dean looked up, still chewing on a piece of chicken. He swallowed, "Huh?"

"Never mind," Sam said but he found himself watching Dean closely.

Something was definitely wrong. Crawling into bed. The awkward silence when Castiel was around. This, just now. Whatever it was Sam wasn't going to pry too much but if it got much worse he would push for answers.

-7-

"Castiel."

He had only just taken possesion of a new vessel when Kael found him. Castiel turned. Kael remained in the same vessel he had been in before. The body was hulking, huge, and damaged. Of course for Kael finding a new vessel would be no easy task. He was no regular angel. There were very few humans who could hold him.

It was a risk, leaving that hillbilly and coming here in his true form. That's why he chose a new vessel so far from the Winchester's. Why it would take him so long to get back. He didn't dare use his powers to return to them. Every time he used his powers he sent out a cosmic ping saying: I'm here.

"You must return."

Castiel raised his hand, "I am not the one who abandoned the throne of god."

"We will hunt you to the ends of the earth. We will tear your human vessel apart. We will drag you kicking and screaming if we must-"

"You won't stop me."

"It is the will of god that we stop you."

Castiel snorted, with a twist of his wrist Kael dropped to his knees. Another twist of his wrist sent Kael face first into the floor. But Kael had power of his own. He surged up with a scream. Castiel didn't stick around for a fight. He disappeared in a flash and Kael slammed into the wall that Castiel had been standing in front of.

Kael shouted and a single thought brought the others into the room.

The six stood around him.

"Follow him!" Kael growled.

Two by two they flickered out of sight until Kael alone remained.

Castiel could not evade them forever.

Soon his strength would wane, and when it did, he would be theirs.


	5. Chapter 5

PART Five  
Canada

-1-

**Day One**

"Since when did you start smoking?" Sam followed Dean outside. The glass from yesterday was still scattered around the parking lot. Dean stood in the center of the mess, where the Impala had been parked when Castiel went angel and busted out his windows.

"I don't know," Dean shrugged, "started up one night, found it relaxing so just kept going."

Sam plucked the cigarette from Dean's fingers and dropped it to the ground. One quick turn of his foot and it was stamped flat. Dean sighed, "Really?"

Sam smirked, "Where's your jacket?"

"I can't find the freaking thing anywhere."

"Wasn't Cas wearing it?"

"Yeah."

Sam tilted his head to look up into the sky, "When will the Impala be ready?"

"Later today."

"Think he'll be back by then?"

"Better be."

Day faded to evening. Once the Impala arrived they were ready to go. But Castiel didn't return.

**Day Two**

"Is this going to be routine now?" Sam asked. They were outside, cleaning the last bits of glass from the Impala's seats.

"What?"

"You sleeping with me."

Dean glared at Sam, "I didn't."

"Dean..."

"Just shut up about it."

That night Dean was in Sam's bed again. He tried to sneak out before morning but Sam was sleeping more lightly with every day that passed so he knew. He knew and he wondered.

**Day Three**

"We can't keep waiting here, Dean. If those things are after us they'll track us down if we just stay here."

"Do you think something happened to him?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam wasn't sure how to answer. It was unlikely Castiel would have taken this long if everything was going according to plan, but he didn't want to say that aloud. He had a feeling that opinion would just upset Dean more than he was already obviously upset.

"You haven't called Katie," Dean said.

"What?"

"Since this whole mess started up, you haven't called Katie."

Sam winced, "We broke up."

"Oh yeah? I figured." Dean already knew Sam wouldn't have come along if there was a girl waiting for him at home.

"Dean..." Sam wasn't sure how to say it, he opted for just blurting it out, "all I ever wanted was a normal life. A house. A family. A 9-5 job. That's all I ever wanted."

"Yeah, and you got it. I'm happy for you."

"Katie's not exactly human."

This caught Dean's attention, "What?"

"She's ... she's part demon, Dean."

Dean's teeth clenched together so tightly his jaw ached. "There are no more demons left on earth, Sam."

"No. That's not... entirely correct." Sam didn't really know how to explain but he felt a strange relief telling Dean all this. Keeping it secret had been hard. Nobody knew, not even Katie. "The halflings were left behind. They're part human too, you know?"

"She's part demon... so you left her?" It wasn't hard to put the pieces together. Sam wanted nothing to do with the supernatural. Even if it meant cutting ties with a loved one. He'd left Dean. He'd left Katie. He'd leave anyone who got in the way of his perfect little dream life.

"You're not happy?"

"Sam..." Dean wanted to hit his little brother. He wanted to yell at him. He managed to push those urges away, instead he just glared at him, "is there nothing you won't abandon?"

"She's part demon, Dean."

"So. Are. You."

Sam winced. His eyes dropped to the ground. He had no response. It was true. He was just as much an abomination as she was... only, he was probably worse because he knew it. She still didn't know what she was. He'd left her without ever telling her.

The look on her face when he left the house still hurt when he thought about it. "I just... I just want a normal life, Dean. It's all I've ever wanted."

Dean shook his head, "You're a coward."

Sam didn't have the chance to defend himself further. Dean walked away before he could think of what to say. The real problem now was, Dean was right.

He loved Katie. He really did. If she was human, if he hadn't figured out she had demon blood in her too, he might have stayed with her forever.

But he was too much of a coward for that.

He had expected Dean to tell him they should kill her. Or hunt her or something. He expected Dean to support his decision. Dean really had changed. And it wasn't exactly to Sam's benefit.

-2-

"Sam."

"You've got to be kidding," Sam took in the wrinkled skin, the frail body, the catarac blue eyes. He took it all in and knew immediately who he was looking at.

Castiel's new vessel had to be at least 90. Maybe more. With Castiel inside the vessel was useable but Sam was having a really hard time understanding why Castiel kept choosing vessels like these. Did he really not care? Did he really have no concept of how messed up this was? If Sam was an angel he'd be popping into humans that were strong, healthy and young but not too young. Not a pot-bellied hillbilly or a 90-year-old grandma.

"We should go," Castiel said, and hearing a little old grandmother speaking in Castiel's typical gravelly way was just weird.

"Right. Sure. Let me call Dean."

Dean answered on the third ring, "What?"

"Cas just showed up."

"Good. I'll be right over. Pack the car."

Dean kept glaring at the reflection of Castiel's new host in the rear view mirror. Sam was trying hard not to laugh but it wasn't easy. Castiel, for his part, seemed unaware of Dean's consternation and Sam's amusement. In fact, he seemed tired. A few times his eyes drifted closed only to blearily blink back open.

"We need to talk about the border," Sam said, "how do we get past it?"

"Flash our badges, say we're transporting a terrorist," Dean shrugged.

"The FBI have no jurisdiction in Canada, Dean."

"Get Garth on the line. Tell him we need clearance."

Sam dialed Garth, "Hey, Garth. Listen, we need to get past the Canadian border."

"Already on it!" Garth said, "Did Castiel show up?"

"We got him."

"Good, good. Snap a quick picture of his vessel and send it on over. I'll get you through that border! Guaranteed!"

"What's wrong with you?" Dean asked when Castiel's eyes closed yet again.

"Did you know," Castiel spoke softly, "it is possible for angels to become ill."

Dean's hands tightened on the steering wheel, "You're sick?"

"What could make an angel ill?" Sam asked, he turned in his seat a bit to get a good look at Castiel.

Castiel's catarac-blue eyes focused on Dean's which stared at him in the rear view mirror.

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me," Dean said sharply.

"Humans call it love. Angels have no word for it."

"Love?" Sam looked at Dean. Dean's expression was unreadable. For the moment he was carefully guarded.

"Bethel left the host of heaven for it. As did many others."

"It makes you sick?" Sam asked softly.

"With enough time, it will kill me."

Dean held the steering wheel so tightly now that his knuckles had turned white. "How do we fix it, then?" he asked gruffly.

"The Eye of Bethel."

"You said that will kill the Seraphim." Sam frowned.

"I said it will stop them. It will cure me as well."

"I gotta lay the law down here, Cas," Dean said later that evening when they stopped just south of the Canadian border. He hadn't caught the name of the town, he hadn't cared enough to notice.

Castiel looked up from his task, straightening the vessel's fingers, bent by arthritis. When he left, her body would be ten years younger than it had been when he came. She would be left with better health and more years on the clock then before. In some ways, his choosing her body as his vessel had been a gift to her. A gift for years of loyal service to god's will.

Sam was again in the shower, which gave them time alone together. It was the only time alone they'd probably have so Dean took the opportunity to say what he wanted to say.

"The law?"

"No more crippled bodies. No more hillbillies. No more pot bellies. No more grannies. No more grandpas. Next body you pick is between 20 and 30, preferably with a nice rack but honestly I don't even care as long as it's healthy."

"Why?"

"Because! I don't enjoy wanting to bang somebody's grandmother!" Dean shouted.

Castiel didn't often show much expression. At times he could look confused or angry but now his confusion was pretty obvious and in some ways endearingly cute with that wrinkled old face, "You find this body sexually arousing?"

"No! You-" Dean rubbed his palms into his eyes a moment as he struggled to explain, "I apparently," he said more calmly, "find any damn meat suit you wear arousing. Because you are... irresistable. You're like a freaking drug that I can't quit. A drug I want, even if I've never actually tasted it. And I could handle it when you were in Novak. It was weird but not _this_ weird. So yes, do me a favor and choose different bodies. Okay? That's all. It's bad enough I'm questioning my sexuality when you're in _him_ but these... these are too much."

Castiel didn't understand sexual attraction. He didn't understand lust. He didn't understand any of what Dean had just said, except the part where Dean was upset. Very upset. "Should I go get a new vessel?"

"Will it be dangerous?" Dean asked more calmly.

"Yes."

"Then not right now. Just... next time you gotta switch things up pick... somebody different."

"I understand."

"Do you?"

Castiel studied the frail old fingers he'd just straightened. Human bodies were so ... temporary. One day Dean's fingers would be like this. Frail and curved from arthritis. And why did that thought make Castiel's soul ache? Of course he knew. He didn't fully understand but he knew.

"What took so long?" Dean asked.

Castiel looked up. Ah, how he loved and hated looking into those eyes. Dean's gaze did strange things to him. "What took so long?"

"You were gone three days, Cas."

"I met... with the others. It took me some time to evade them and then circle back to where you were waiting."

"Did they hurt you?"

"They are incapable of harming me."

"Oh?"

Sam was out of the shower now. He banged the cupboards as loud as he could as he pulled out towels and dried off. Just how much did Sam know? How much had he figured out? Dean might have been embarrassed if this was years ago but now he just didn't care if Sam knew or not.

Life was too short to mess around.

"Is it true?" Dean asked when Castiel seemed unlikely to expand on the whole 'they can't harm me' bit.

"Is what true?"

"You can't ever... love, like humans do. Without it killing you?"

"Yes, Dean. We were not built for such things. We love in ways that you cannot understand and you love in ways that we simply cannot."

Dean grimaced, "is that why you left?"

"Dean..."

"It doesn't matter. I don't care if you can't love me the way I love you, Cas. You didn't have to run."

"I didn't run."

"Didn't you? I _love_ you, Cas," Dean said the words furiously, not like he would with anyone else, because he was furious. He was furious with the entire freaking universe that put him in this stupid position, "but I get it. I know you can't feel the same way and that's fine. Just..." _don't leave me._

"If you need the shower-" Sam stopped mid-sentence when he saw the look on Dean's face, "Er..."

"Yeah. Thanks, Sam." It was Dean's turn to run. He slammed the bathroom door behind him, leaving a very awkward Sam with a strangely sad looking Castiel.

-3-

He missed his old vessel. In the dark, Sam's quiet breathing the only sound in the room, Castiel contemplated the strangeness of this moment. It was so hard moving from his angelic reality to this. In this shell, with Dean, he felt different. He felt wrong. He felt right. Having fingers, having legs, having a heart that beat, faster when Dean was near, all of it was like a bizarre alternate dimension.

But now, stuck in this vessel, this unfamiliar vessel he found himself longing for _his_ body. When did he form attachments? Since when did physical things hold any appeal? Since when did Novak become _him_.

Since Dean.

It was really that simple.

It was all because of Dean.

Dean was the one and only reason he was here.

Dean was the one and only reason he hadn't given himself to oblivion.

And Dean loved him.

In the way that humans loved things. In the way that humans loved people they chose as life partners, people they chose to live and to die with.

-4-

**Years Ago**

"Cas." Dean said the word and Cas appeared. The room changed, suddenly smelling of feathers and sunlight. Castiel always smelled like feathers and sunlight. Dean didn't really know what feathers smelled like, but the way Cas smelled, he figured that was it.

"Yes, Dean?"

They were a team these days, he and Cas. After Sam left, Castiel became his backup. And Cas was loyal backup. He came whenever Dean called and he did whatever Dean asked. He only rarely turned righteous angel on Dean these days, in fact he hadn't refused to help with anything in a long while.

But it wasn't the same as it was with Sam.

Castiel never stayed long. He came. He helped. He left. It was the leaving part Dean hated. Especially lately.

Dean held up an opened bottle of beer, "Here, have a drink."

Castiel took the bottle. A year ago he wouldn't have, a couple of months ago he might have hesitated, now he did as Dean suggested. With his typical grace Cas sat beside Dean on the sofa. Dean sat on the edge, his legs spread wide, his arms braced on his thighs, another beer bottle in his hands the moment he gave the first to Castiel.

He had a case on the floor beside him.

The case was half full, it'd been a long night.

Liquid courage didn't come quick or easy these days. Liquid courage. Dean mentally scoffed at the thought. He'd faced down Hell, Purgatory and every beast imaginable but he needed liquid courage to face this one angel. This one beautiful, ridiculous, useless, addictive angel.

"I don't understand. Is there a mission?"

"No, Cas. I just wanted to talk a bit."

"Talk, Dean?"

"It's that thing we humans do when we're lonely or troubled or whatever."

"Ah. Are you troubled?"

"Yeah. Pretty troubled."

"I see. What about?"

"There's... this thing I gotta do. This thing I need to do. This thing that's been gnawing at my brain and making me crazy."

"It must be a very difficult thing."

"Oh, you have no idea."

"How can I help, Dean?"

"Listen."

"All right."

"I'm in love."

"I see."

"That's not listening, that's interjecting. Just listen!"

"I am listening."

A short, annoyed glance and then Dean tried to start again. Some days he regretted teaching Cas to be more human. This was one of those days.

"I'm in love... with an angel. I don't think he knows it and it's weird because I'm not gay or anything but I can't stop thinking about him. When he's not with me it feels like a piece of me is missing. When he is with me it feels like the entire universe is pushing me towards him. I fill up with sex, endless missions, constant noise but I can't get him _out_ of me, Cas. I can't get him out."

"Balthazar."

"What?"

"It's Balthazar isn't it?"

"What!"

"I would understand. If I were human I might also be in love with him."

"Are you freaking..." Dean clenched his beer bottle tightly. _Focus._ "NO, it's not Balthazar."

"I see."

"You'd be in love with Balthazar if you were human?"

"He has a certain appeal."

"He's freaking old. And ugly. And stupid."

"That's a bit harsh Dean."

"Agh! Stop it! Stop distracting me!"

"Are you drunk?'

"No, I'm not..." Dean set his bottle down. "It's you!"

Castiel hadn't taken a single sip from his own bottle. He took it to quieten Dean but he never did drink from the bottles Dean gave him. Alcohol held no appeal to him.

"It's me?"

"I love you, man."

"I know."

"No. I _love_ you." Dean stressed the word, "I love you!"

"Your blood alcohol level has appeared to-"

"I'm not _really_ drunk. I'm not." Dean swore softly. This wasn't going well. This was a train wreck. This is what happened when he tried to express himself, when he tried to embrace the feels. Enough talk. It was time to act.

He grabbed the front of Castiel's trench coat and pulled the angel roughly towards him.

Their lips met and for Dean everything finally felt right.

But for Castiel... for Castiel something much worse happened.

Something much, much worse.

In the morning Dean woke with a raging headache, a sore stomach and only dim memories of the night before. He lay sprawled on the floor of the living room. Alone. The room still smelled of feathers and sunlight but Castiel was no where in sight.

"Ah shit," Dean groaned.

-5-

**Present Day, Canadian Border**

"Mounties?" Dean drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. They had just passed through the border.

Garth, crazy, genius, annoying little Garth had got them through. Dean didn't want to know how. All he knew was at the border they presented their IDs and the border patrol let them pass with hardly a second glance. They hadn't even been subjected to a vehicle search. Whatever Garth had done, it worked like a charm.

"RCMP, I think." Sam corrected.

"It's a stupid name."

Once they were in the country they had everything they needed to pass as the local authorities. Trouble was, Dean wasn't entirely sure who the local authorities were. Canada was like bizarro land to him. Similar to his own country but very, very different too.

"How far is the Eye?" Castiel asked softly.

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror, his eyes darting away the moment he caught Castiel watching for him. He tried not to look in the rearview mirror. It seemed like Castiel was always watching, always waiting for a shared glance. It was driving him crazy.

Castiel drove him crazy.

"According to this," Sam had his laptop opened on his lap. He tapped a few buttons, "it's right near the northern most border. In a little town called Harmony."

"A town called Harmony?"

"Yeah."

"Sounds great."

"Dean."

"How long will it take to get there?" Dean ignored Castiel's voice.

"Two days."

"Dean."

"What?" Dean growled. He glanced up, but it wasn't Castiel's eyes he saw in the mirror this time. "Holy shit!"

Sam turned, "Wh-" but he couldn't get the word out.

They slammed into the ground on either side of the car, the impact of their landing caused the ground to shudder and then ripple, like water after being disturbed by a stone. The car rocked to the right, to the left and then flipped.

Over and over they turned. Three times? Four? Dean couldn't keep track. The seatbelt tore into his shoulder. The airbags flared to life, slamming into his face.

The world faded to white.


	6. Chapter 6

PART SIX  
Pain

-1-

**Canada**

Angels. Dean was sick of freaking angels. "Sam," he pushed ineffectively at the air bag. He'd had the damn things installed a few years back. He had a feeling they'd come in useful, sometime. It was both satisfying and irritating to find out he'd been right.

"I'm okay," Sam answered.

"What the hell was that?" Another ineffective push and then Dean tugged the knife out of his pocket and stabbed the bag. It didn't pop like he expected but isntead deflated with a soft hiss.

Sam's bag was already deflated. In fact, Sam was already half out of his seat. They'd landed right side up. That was a small favor from whatever force had intervened. "Holy shit," Sam murmured when he took in the landscape.

Dean's door didn't open easily. It took two hard shoulder slams and three knocks of his hand before it grudgingly groaned open a crack. After that more shoving opened it enough that he could crawl out.

A bit ago they'd been on a highway. Surrounded by lush, green land. Ahead had been the unsteady visage of a town. Now, from every angle, there was only ripped up dirt. Dirt. Dirt. Mort dirt. Great rivets in the ground, one which the Impala was straddling.

It took him longer to notice Castiel's absence then it should have. Dean crouched down, peering into the back seat, "Cas?"

He straightened up and turned, but in every direction all he could see was devastation. "CAS!"

"He's not here," Sam made his way carefully to the trunk. A few quick knocks and it popped open.

"Shit, where'd he go?" Dean tried to fight off the fear but it wasn't easy.

As usual Dean had backpacks in the trunk and Sam started shoving ammunition and weapons into the largest bag he could find. Dean grabbed a bag and followed his brother's lead. They'd need to be armed. Whatever was going on it didn't have a natural source.

The ground shuddered. Far ahead, in the distance, the sky turned white. "I'd say he went that way," Sam slung the now full bag over his shoulder.

Dean grabbed his favorite rifle, pulled the now heavy bag out and slammed the trunk, "then we go that way."

"I figured."

His fingers closed around the other angel's throat. With a grunt he lifted the other up and then slammed him down. The other hit the ground so hard the blow reverberated for miles in every direction. When Joachim went down, Hanneke came at him from behind. Castiel turned at the last possible second. Energy exploded around them.

His human eyes couldn't see what followed next but Castiel's true form was unsettled enough that his angelic eyes could. The energy shot out of his arms and into Hanneke's. Hanneke jerked, his eyes rolling back, his body vibrating and screaming.

The body finally succumbed. It tore down the center. Pieces flew in every direction. Blood splattered Castiel's poised form. Hanneke's true self, ripped without warning from the human vessel, flickered in the sudden exposure. Constrained in a human body or not, Castiel was still more powerful than either of these Seraphim.

They hadn't known though.

They hadn't suspected.

His left hand shot forward. Before the other angel could retreat, Castiel grabbed his spiritual form, a feat which took physical and other effort. One quick squeeze, one more shot of energy and Hanneke was no longer. This death wasn't bloody as the physical death had been.

The light faded. His human eyes could see again. Castiel wiped his frail, arthritic hands against his bloodied pants. There was a lot of blood. Quite a lot.

He turned. Joachim had not waited to see what came next. When they arrived on the scene they had presumed they were powerful. Powerful enough to take on Castiel alone. But having seen what he'd seen Joachim now knew differently.

Castiel might have spared Hanneke's life, if he thought that would have been enough. This was better. Joachim would tell the others. They would regroup and they would discuss and they would not act. Not yet.

It was unfortunate things had to go this far. It's not what Castiel wanted but with Sam and Dean in real danger he had no choice.

In the distance two humanoid forms, blackened by poor human eye sight and the light of the sun, made their way steadily towards him. Castiel walked in that direction.

"Shit," Dean raised his rifle.

They didn't so much as 'arrive' as they 'appeared'. It took Dean all of two seconds to respond to their sudden appearance but when he did his rifle was raised and ready. At his side Sam lifted the pistol and took aim.

The one was covered in blood, his eyes wide and crazed. The others looked as if their meat suits were about to melt.

Dean knew his rifle was useless but holding it felt good. It was better than just standing there in open submission. "Grab them," the farthest one spoke.

The bloodied one moved first, coming at them with a snarl that was more demonic than anything Dean had seen on an angelic face before. He fired. BAM! The shot tore into the angels face. Blood spewed forward, some of it landing on Dean's fingers, a few drops hitting his face. The angel hesitated, stumbled and collapsed.

Dean looked at Sam, Sam looked at Dean. In that moment time seemed to stand still. The moment didn't last. The angel, now with half his face blown off, got to his feet while his two companions rushed forward.

Dean fired all of his rounds in quick succession. Each bang jolting his shoulder and ringing in his ears. He wouldn't be able to hear much when this was over. Not for a long while anyway. Sam was firing too, his aim just as steady as Dean's.

Each shot pushed the angels back a step. But ultimately it was futile. They both knew it was futile. They fired anyway.

Suddenly one was behind Sam. Dean turned, aiming and firing his last shot. It was a risky one. Sam flinched forward, blood from the angel's newly torn side soaked the back of his jacket.

The brothers moved as one, closing the space between them until they stood back to back. Dean dropped the rifle. He'd dropped the ammo bag earlier, it was too far away to be of use. Nine bullets. That's all he had. After that he was screwed.

Sam, judging by the amount of shots he had taken, was in the same boat. What came once the bullets were done? What came when the angels grew tired of this game and just tore their souls out of their bodies? Dean didn't want to think about that but his brain refused to listen.

They were going to die.

The bloodied angel came at him. He squeezed the trigger.

Silence.

Dean turned the rifle, swinging it like a club at the last possible second. The butt of the rifle hit the angel's head but it wasn't enough. Pain. The odd sensation of weightlessness. The world turned to a confusing mess of sensation and then came sharply back into focus when he landed, several feet from the action, on his back. The ground shuddered with the impact.

Bones broke, pain sparked. He was hurt. He was hurt bad. He let out a gasp, just one gasp and rolled onto his side in a protective huddle.

Dean had shit luck. Sam saw the angel hit his brother, it was more a flick really but it sent Dean flying. He landed, hard, several feet away. Far enough that Sam knew if he tried to run to his brother's aid he wouldnt' make it.

This wasn't how he imagined dying. Absurdly he found himself thinking about Katie.

He missed her. Now, faced with sure death, he wanted her beside him. He wanted to see her face one last time. He wanted to tell her that he loved her.

He wanted to apologize.

One of the angels lunged.

He pulled the trigger.

He pulled the trigger again.

The angel didn't even flinch this time.

The angel grabbed the front of his shirt.

_I love you, Katie._

But he didn't die.

In fact, the angel released him.

"Close your eyes Sam," Castiel's grim grandmother voice instructed.

Sam obeyed. He closed his eyes before he could see where Castiel was.

The ringing hit hard and fast. He flinched, covering his ears with his hands. Whatever happened next, he wouldn't be able to watch.

He killed Joachim first. If only because now he was annoyed. The other had touched _his_ Dean. He turned to the others after. Balbit eyed him warily, Khalib stood at a distance. They both seemed uncertain how to proceed.

They hadn't expected such violence. Not from Castiel. Not anymore at least. Castiel flexed his fingers, "I will let you live, if you leave now."

"Don't do this, Castiel."

"But if you leave, warn the others that I will kill any who come near the Winchester's."

"Come back with us."

Castiel turned from them. Dean lay on the ground, still huddled on his side. Anger, an emotion he knew but hadn't felt for some time, swelled inside of him like a great blister that would burst if poked. "Leave," he growled, "enough have died this day."

He could sense that they wanted to argue. He turned his gaze to them. In his eyes they must have seen something that finally connected because when he looked upon them they disappeared. One. Two. Gone.

But for how long.

The light faded. Sam opened his eyes.

Before him Castiel lay on the ground, his old grandmother body alarmingly bent and still.

"Dean..." Sam crouched down to check Castiel for a pulse first, "Dean."

But Dean didn't answer.

"Shit," Sam sighed.

-2-

**Taber, Alberta - Canada**

Mary-anne Jenkins didn't get much business. In truth Canada wasn't all that supernaturally active. In fact, it was a good place for a hunter to retire. That, ultimately, was why she retired here. In this little town. Not too far from the border, and family, but far enough that she only rarely encountered any kind of supernatural activity.

Saturday morning she found herself sipping a cup of tea on her front porch. Across the street her neighbor, Berman, worked in his flower bed. It was early but Berman was what you might call a 'keener'. Earliest morning to latest night he was out working on his flower beds.

When she came out she'd waved at him but as usual he ignored her. He wasn't the friendliest human being on the planet but she couldn't make herself care. Canada was rubbing off on her; despite his less than friendly attitude she found herself continuing to smile, wave and greet him.

The sun had just reached the roof of Berman's house when the sleek grey car pulled to a stop by the curb. Mary-anne sipped her tea, watching and curious but not alarmed. She hadn't seen hunting action in well over two years. There had been rumors of a Sasquatch a few weeks back but that had been nothing more than your typical drunken kids playing pranks.

The door opened and a man who _could_ have been a Sasquatch climbed out. He wasn't hairy enough but by god he was tall. Mary-anne's lips tilted in a small smile. Tall, ridiculously built and rather cute. _No, not cute. Don't think cute, Mary-anne. _She scolded herself.

The young Sasquatch checked his phone. His brow furrowed. He looked up, his eyes catching hers. She smiled and raised her tea cup in a gesture of greeting.

"Excuse me, you are Mary-anne Jenkins?" he checked his phone as he spoke and said her name the way people say things they're reading on the spot instead of things they know by memory.

"Sure am."

"Garth sent me."

"Garth?" she hadn't heard that name in awhile. A long while, "That little rat is still in the business?"

"I..." the Sasquatch glanced into the back of the grey car, "can I park in your garage?"

"My garage?" Mary-anne repeated incredulously.

"I have something I need to unload. It's kind of a ... long story."

"Delicate too, I'd imagine," Mary-anne sighed, "all right. Just let me finish my tea."

"It's kind of something that can't wait."

"Garth sent you?"

"Yes."

She studied his well structured face. He seemed truthful. Didn't seem to be a demon, or a shifter, or anything of that nature but it was hard to tell from just one look. She should have insisted on testing him and verifying his existance but hell it had been a boring two past years.

She set her tea down and got to her feet, "All right, Sasquatch, give me a second to get the door open."

"Sasquatch?" he repeated but she didn't wait around to clarify.

The Sasquatch's 'something to unload' turned out to be human beings. Two of them. A gorgeous male model and a chubby granny. Mary-anne didn't ask questions. She secured the garage door and opened the door that led into the kitchen.

Sasquatch carried them in one at a time. She directed him to the guest room. The male model was laid down first. Sasquatch was gentle with the model. Granny got dumped on the bed beside model with far less care.

"So these are...?"

"Do you have any medical training?" Sasquatch asked.

"Enough."

Sasquatch looked at her, his eyes earnest, "can you check them over? I think he's got broken ribs and a fractured forearm."

"Hospital is out because...?"

"We're being chased. By something... dangerous."

She laughed, "Sure. I'll look em over. Why don't you head to the kitchen and prepare another pot of tea."

"Excuse me?" Sasquatch repeated.

"You heard me. Go on!"

-3-

When Dean woke it was to the soft twittering of a bird. An annoying, repetitive, loud freaking bird. His eyes opened slowly. He was warm but sore. No, not just sore, he was keenly aware of pain in his arm and another 'resting' pain in his chest. If he moved he suspected that pain would stop resting and would blossom into full out agony. So he didn't move.

He could feel another body near but he spent a moment studying the room. Blue, white and pink wallpaper, an old dusty ceiling fan, the nearby window through which the twittering could reach him. This wasn't a hospital, it wasn't a room he'd seen before either.

He finally turned his head to study the body at his side. "Cas?" He shifted unconsciously towards the grandmother and groaned as his ribs protested. He was right, the sleeper pain did ignite into agony when he tried to move.

"Cas?"

Cas' brow furrowed. His eyes opened just a slit. A soft moan, "Where... where..."

"Where are we? Hell if I know."

"Who..."

"What?"

"Who... are you?"

Dean studied those barely open eyes.

The door opened. He turned his head. Sam smiled when their eyes met, "You're awake."

"This isn't Cas," Dean said grimly, "Where is he?"

Sam's smile faded, "I assumed it was Cas."

"He must be after a new host," Dean tried to sit up, the pain pulled him back down, "ah ffuuuu-"

"You've got some broken ribs."

"Some?" Dean groaned.

"Who are you?" the grandma asked.

"You were in a car accident," Sam moved to the bed, he leaned over the grandma, "the ambulance is on it's way. Just relax. You're going to be fine."

"Oh... oh, thank you... young man," the grandma sighed.

Moving Dean from the bedroom into the living room was no easy task. It took time, patience, a lot of pain killers and a lot of cursing. Soon enough, however, Dean was seated on the couch and Sam was leading the grandma, Jennie was her name, outside.

Mary-anne, the hunter, greeted Dean with a great deal of warmth. "So you're the Sasquatch's brother," Mary-anne said as she placed a cup of tea on the coffee table before him.

"The one and only," Dean said easily.

"I'll be back in two minutes," Sam said, "if any angels show up-"

"I'll ring you," Mary-anne said, "I promise."

Sam led Jenni outside. Mary-anne waited until he was out before she spoke again, "So, angels huh?"

"You are?"

"Mary-anne Jenkins."

"_The_ Mary-anne Jenkins?" Dean repeated incredulously.

"Retired," Mary-anne smiled, "so not _the_ Mary-anne Jenkins anymore. Now I'm just Mary-anne. The tea lady."

"Yeah, angels," Dean said gruffly.

"I heard about something on the news the other day. Mass murders, entire towns wiped out of existance."

"Angels," Dean confirmed.

"I've never heard of murdering angels before."

"They're not doing it intentionally."

"Ah, I see. Death by accident."

"They're poweful. The most powerful of their kind. Sinful hearts melt when faced with them," Dean slid his arm around his chest, it didn't actually help the pain.

"I've never heard of that before," Mary-anne said, "sounds dreadful."

"Doesn't it?" Dean eyed her, "this is where you retired? Canada?"

"Sasquatches," Mary-anne said in answer, "I love Sasquatches."

"More than enough here."

"Exactly."

-4-

Castiel rested. A spiritual sleep so powerful that nothing could wake him. Bits of the world outside filtered in to his sleeping consciousness. Sam. Dean. A bus. He had no control, not so long as he rested.

When his energy replenished, when he woke, he found himself on a bus. To his right an old man chatted about grandchildren.

He was still inside his vessel. "Where are we?" he demanded.

The old man stuttered to a halt, "Pardon?"

"Where are we?"

"Just outside Great Falls."

"Montana?"

"Yes."

How had he crossed the border? The vessel, he realized, had taken control while he rested. The Winchester's had encountered the vessel and presumed Castiel was gone.

There wasn't time to bring the vessel back. He had no choice but to abandon her.

And abandon her he did.

_"No more crippled bodies. No more hillbillies. No more pot bellies. No more grannies. No more grandpas. Next body you pick is between 20 and 30, preferably with a nice rack but honestly I don't even care as long as it's healthy."_

He needed a new vessel. And this time he found himself seeking exactly the kind of vessel Dean had requested.

-5-

Dean couldn't sleep. Nothing unusual there. The drugs were supposd to make him drowsy, they didn't. He lay awake, staring at the old dusty ceiling fan. Down the hall Sam and Mary-anne were discussing Sasquatches in the living room. Or at least Dean assumed they were. It's what they'd been mulling over when Dean left them.

Mary-anne's house was small. When Sam finally had enough he would join Dean here. In the guest room. The door opened. Dean assumed Sam had finally gotten tired of Mary-anne's company but the bed dipped and it wasn't Sam who made it dip.

Dean stared at the gorgeous redhead with disbelief. What a freaking rack she had. He knew, without any confirmation he knew, "Cas?"

The redhead nodded, "You are injured."

"Ah Cas... ah man... I ... Cas I freaking love you."

"I know," Cas responded calmly.

"No, man, you have no idea."

Problem was, Dean was a little too pleased with Cas' new vessel. No, a lot too pleased. Crap. How was he supposed to deal with _this_?

Cas reached out. His new soft fingers rested on Dean's forearm. One touch and the pain there was gone. Cas touched Dean's right side and then his left. "I'm sorry," Cas said, "I am still weak from-" he swayed.

"It's good, Cas."

"I need to rest."

"Then rest here."

Cas did not question, or argue. He immediately lay down, "if the vessel awakens, do not send her away."

"Huh?"

"The previous vessel was not abandoned."

"Ah, shit. How far did she get?"

"Montana."

"Sorry Cas."

Cas' eyes closed.

Dean let himself relax, as much as he could. His heart pounded, hard and heavy in his chest. He eased close, closer, "Cas?"

Cas' chest rose and fell slow and steady.

"Cas?"

Silence confirmed what Dean suspected. Cas was resting.

It _was_ Cas. This was Cas.

Dean propped his head on his arm and watched Cas' new temporary face.

Insanely, despite this new vessel's beauty, he found himself missing Novak.

"Night Cas," he said softly.


	7. Chapter 7

PART SEVEN  
The Eye

-1-

**Taber, Alberta**

"More will come," Cas said, his voice still full of gravel but now it was soft too, "we have to keep moving. We have to find the eye before more die."

Dean shrugged into the jacket Mary-anne had provided. Their luggage, of course, had been lost. They had nothing. Just Sam's pistols and the clothes on their backs. Mary-anne, thankfully decided to give them a handful of bullets. It wasn't a lot but it would do them some good if they ran into some Canadian sasquatches.

"What happened out there, Cas?" Dean asked.

"We were attacked."

"Yeah, I noticed. How'd we get away?"

"We fought," Cas said.

"Sure. I was there for that too."

"They lost."

"How?"

"I was the superior fighter."

"How?" Dean asked again, more firmly this time, "How were you the superior fighter? These Seraphim, aren't they the most powerful angels in heaven? Guardians of God's throne? Keepers of unspeakable power?"

Castiel took his time buttoning the jacket Mary-anne had provided him with. It was long, dropping to his knees. Long and form fitted so that it hugged his new feminine curves. Dean couldn't stop himself from tracing those curves with his eyes.

Castiel's hesitance to answer was an answer. Dean crossed the room, he stood before Castiel and grabbed him by the arms. Such slim, small arms. "Cas."

"I have not... been entirely forthcoming."

"No kidding."

"The throne is still abandoned."

"Yeah." Dean nodded, "I figured."

"We all need a leader. Someone to guide us."

"The angels you mean?"

Cas nodded, "They chose me."

"Cas."

"I accepted."

Dean let go of Cas' arms. He turned away, "Are you flipping insane!"

"I had no choice, Dean. They were lost. They needed me."

"No. Not you. You can't freaking handle it!"

"I have. I did," Cas replied calmly.

"How could they put you in that position? How could they trust you after what you did?"

Castiel shook his head from side to side, "They are far more forgiving and rational than you could ever fathom, Dean. My experiences made me powerful. My mistakes made me wise. Ultimately I was the leader they required."

"So you've been playing god all this time? That's why you disappeared?"

"It's not why I left. It's why I stayed gone," Castiel glanced at the window. Outside the sun was shining bright and clear, "We should go Dean."

"You haven't finished explaining."

"Dean... I am powerful than you realize. More powerful than they realize."

"How?" Dean demanded.

"Not through any method you would disapprove of," Castiel said calmly, "sitting on the Throne granted me certain powers. The longer I am away the more my power wanes. We should move."

"You sat on the throne of god?"

"For a very long time. For a very long time I sat on the throne and I ruled all," Castiel reached out, his fingers rested on Dean's upper arm, "we can discuss this later. We should go."

"Earlier, in the field," Sam waited until they were in Mary-anne's car and driving away before he brought it up, "do you remember what happened out there?"

Dean frowned, not at Sam but at the traffic ahead. He didn't dare turn his eyes away. Traffic was surprisingly heavy for a small town. "Yeah. I remember."

"You fired, Dean."

"What?"

"You fired at that angel. The one attached to my back. That shot could have gone wrong. It could have gone really wrong."

"It didn't."

"And before. When that guy, Kael? When he took me. You charged into the warehouse with nothing but a freaking gun. Knowing you had no chance of defeating an _angel_."

"Okay. What's the point Sam?"

"The point is... you're making a lot of really reckless choices."

"Yup," Dean agreed.

Sam glanced in the rearview mirror. His eyes met Castiel's.

"Er... Dean..."

"You're alive. I'm alive," Dean tapped his fingers against the parking brake, "so my reckless choices are working. Just leave it alone Sam."

Sam had no intention of leaving it alone but for now he slipped into an uneasy silence.

-2-

**Somewhere in Rural Canada**

The church had once been made of stone. Now each stone had turned to solid gold.

The five stood in a semi-circle. Each face equally composed and devoid of emotion. "He is more powerful than we expected," Balbit said softly.

"Far more powerful," Khalib agreed.

"How?" Kael wondered, "How could he hold so much power?"

"He is our god," Danae said quietly, " his power should be beyond measure."

"He is one of us," Kael corrected, "less than one of us. He was our god because we asked him to be. He should not be so powerful."

Above the ceiling cracked as it slowly turned golden. Soon the entire church would be a monument. Gems began to form in the pillars that supported the ceiling. If they remained long enough the ground near the church would also change from dirt to gold dust.

"What do we do?" Uriel asked.

"We have to complete our mission."

"He will kill us all."

"Not if we overpower him. There are five left. Five of us, one of him. He is nothing but an angel. A meaningless, powerless soldier. We will take him. We will defeat him. We will do exactly what we came here for." Kael spoke in a growl, "but first... we will find new, stronger vessels. Go. Hurry."

One by one they blinked out of sight until Kael stood alone. His vessel was nothing more than a skeletal husk of a man now. With a soft growl he shook himself free of it and in his true form he shot out of the golden church into the night sky.

-3-

**Taber, Alberta**

Mary-anne Jenkins didn't mind not having a car. It gave her a certain sense of accomplishment to know she'd helped two lost little hunters and their odd little redheaded friend. That was enough for her. Anywhere she needed to go she could get by foot.

She sipped her tea on her front porch, just as she'd done when the Sasquatch first arrived. The car he'd stolen to get here was still parked by her front curb. She didn't mind. Eventually the police might swing around and spot it but that wasn't likely to happen anytime soon.

She expected a quiet day. A day like any other. Her neighbor was out, pruning his hedges. The sun shone high in the sky. It was a warm, quiet afternoon. The kind of afternoon she normally would have fallen asleep to.

Of course all hell broke loose.

The screaming wasn't completely unfamiliar. The park just down the street was quite popular with the younger kids on her street and kids had a way of making fun sound like life or death.

It took her a few seconds to process that this scream was not a child's scream. This was something different.

She set her tea down and rose to her feet. Even her neighbor was now peering past his hedges.

Down the street five figures walked in the center of the road. Mary-anne grasped the support beam that held up the overhang for her deck. Ginger Grey was walking her dog. She walked towards the men, unaware of the screaming that had just cut off or perhaps unable to hear it because of the earbuds in her ears.

As she passed the five men she suddenly convulsed. She screamed and the sound made Mary-anne flinch in sympathy.

Ginger hit the sidewalk, blood spewed from her like water from a fountain. It was senseless. Completely and totally inexplicable.

Mary-anne knew without having to be told who these men were.

Angels.

She darted into her house, slamming the door behind her.

There was no time to waste.

-4-

"Dean?"

"No. Sam."

"Dean, we've got trouble. No. I've got trouble."

"Mary-anne?"

"Your angels just showed up. They've come looking for you kids. People are dropping dead."

"Oh shit," Sam looked at Dean, "the Seraphim are in Taber."

"Shit," Dean groaned.

"How do I stop these things?"

"They can't be stopped," Sam said grimly.

"People are dying."

"I'm sorry."

Mary-anne leaned against her back door. She closed her eyes and took a moment to just breathe. Breathe and think. "I can't stand by and watch this."

"If you try to stop them-"

"You survived meeting them."

Sam rubbed his fingers against his right temple, "I'm... not exactly all human, Mary-anne."

"Dean survived."

"Barely and..." Sam glanced at Dean, "he's not exactly average either."

"What's she doing?" Dean asked. He didn't know her well but she had helped them. He felt oddly responsible for her. Or perhaps appropriately responsible. Her life wouldn't be in danger if not for them.

"I'm not exactly average either," Mary-anne smirked, "giddy up boys. Wish me luck."

"Mary-anne. Mary-anne don't-!" But it was too late. She'd hung up.

Sam lowered the phone.

"She's going after them."

"Yeah."

"She's going to get herself killed!" Dean slammed on the brakes. They lurched forward from the force of the sudden stop.

"You know where the Eye is?" Cas asked from the back seat.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked.

"We're going back. We're not leaving her to die." The traffic was too thick to turn yet. Dean waited.

"Dean," Cas leaned forward. He pressed his hand against Dean's upper arm, "do you know where the Eye is?"

Dean glanced at him, irritation etched into every line of his face, "Yes."

"Find it."

"Cas..." Sam frowned.

"I'll help Mary-anne."

"No, Cas!"

"You two go on. I'll keep them distracted."

"No. We go together!"

"We can. We can go and we can leave Mary-anne Jenkins to die. If that's what you desire. Or, I can stand at her side and help her distract them. We are a days journey from the Eye. If you can find it, and call to me, I will come to you."

"Can you hold them off for that long?" Dean asked grimly.

"Yes. I can."

The silence was uncomfortable. Sam opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again but nothing came out. He didn't know what to say. They could find the Eye faster without those angels after them, and he didn't like the idea of leaving Mary-anne to die but he didn't like the idea of leaving Cas behind either. Was it really wise to split up?

It killed Dean. This wasn't how they did things. This wasn't how he did things. He couldn't see an alternative. "Stay alive," he said softly.

Cas nodded, "Call me the moment you have the Eye."

Just like that he was gone.

Dean gripped the steering wheel tight. He flipped the turn signal and pulled back out into traffic when it was safe to do so.

"We're really doing this?" Sam asked quietly.

"We've done it before," Dean said.

Not since the beginning. Not since the dark days. Sam sighed and glanced back. The road stretched out behind and before them.

Would Cas be okay?

-5-

**Taber, Alberta**

Mary-anne waited in the backyard. They searched the house. She could tell they were inside. She caught glimpses of them in the windows as they looked for the angel they knew had been there. She cocked the pistol and held it up. She was ready.

The back door opened, the tallest, largest, ugliest angel stepped onto her back porch.

She felt the burn, the pain. It started from her eyes and worked through her nervous system. Just looking at him hurt. A lot.

But by god she wasn't going to die without a fight.

Her finger squeezed the trigger. Two clear shots rang out. One ripped into his eye, she saw it. Saw the blood. Saw him flinch. And then the world started to fade.

A sharp hand on her arm. The pain disappeared. At her side stood the red head. The one the boys called Cas.

"Castiel," the brute of an angel growled, his eyes oozing blood.

"It's me you want, Kael, not these people."

"You are correct," Kael moved away from the door and the others came out. Four of them. Each in varying stages of decay. They looked like walking corpses, not angelic beings.

Mary-anne braced herself and raised her pistol once more.

"Here I am," Castiel shifted so he was standing in front of Mary-anne, she quickly lowered her weapon so it wasn't pointed at his back, "take me... if you can."

"Castiel," Kael stepped off the porch. Instinctively Mary-anne stepped back, "You must return. There is nothing for you here."

"Everything for me is here," Castiel responded, "I have played my part. I have done my time. I have made my choice."

"It's the wrong one."

"Then change my mind, if you can."

-6-

"Are we going to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"You're in love with Castiel."

"Are we really going to do this? We're going to sit here and talk about our feelings?"

"I think... it's worth talking about."

"You're in love with Katie."

"That's-"

"And you left her."

"I-"

"Because she's freaking the same as you!" Dean snapped.

For a few moments they were both silent. Both lost in their own personal regrets and unwilling to speak.

Sam broke the silence by saying, "You're right."

"What?"

"You're right. I shouldn't have left her. I was a coward. It was stupid. And when this is over, when the Seraphim are gone and the world is right, I'm going to find her and I'm going to apologize."

"You are?"

"Yeah, Dean. I am."

Another long stretch of quiet, "What are you going to do about Cas?"

"You heard him. Human love makes him sick," Dean said, "there isn't anything I can do."

"How long?"

"Probably from that first year. I don't know exactly when Sam, I just know how I feel."

"Maybe there's a way-"

"If there was a way he'd know. And if he was interested he'd propose it." Dean gripped the steering wheel tight, "I think it's pretty clear I'm not what he wants."

"I'm sor-"

"Don't say it."

There didn't seem to be anything left to say, so the Winchester brothers drove in silence.

-7-

The ground shook. Dirt flew in every direction. Some of it hit her in the face. Mary-anne ducked for cover behind the garbage bin. Her fingers shook as she pulled out her cellphone. It was crazy to be dialing in the middle of the most ridiculous battle she'd ever seen but she dialed. She held the phone to her ear and glanced around the bin in time to see Castiel send one of the angels flying into her neighbors house.

The angel impacted, tore through the siding and disappeared into the house. From the force of impact she suspected he would fly right through. If her neighbor was alive, and she wasn't convinced he was, he wasn't going to be too happy about the angel shaped hole through his home.

"Dean-no, Sam?"

"Mary-anne?"

"Your angel friend just arrived. What the hell is going on?"

"Is he okay?"

"He seems to be doing just fine. He's tossing them around like they're pesky bugs."

"He's going to hold them off. Can you get to safety?"

"I'm thinking this is probably the safest place for me."

"And where are you exactly?"

"Right beside the action."

"You might want to get to safer ground Mary-anne."

"Listen, Sasquatch, this thing.. this is freaking ridiculous. I am watching angels, in human vessels, tear each other apart and toss each other around like paper airplanes. No way I'm missing this. Where are you now?"

"Just passed a town called Wainwright."

"Keep going. You don't have far to go now. Ten hours, maybe eleven."

"Yeah, that's not far..."

"Listen!" Mary-anne snapped, "the Eye of Bethel is in the hands of a hunter."

"What?"

"Carson. His name is Carson. He lives just outside of Harmony. Last house on the right before the town."

"You knew this when you sent us off."

"I figured you had time to find out on your own but I see I was wrong in my assumption."

"No kidding."

"Just get that Eye! And get these freaking angels out of my town."

"We got it."

She flipped the phone shut. One of the angels, she couldn't see which, hit the ground. More dirt in her face and in her hair. She covered her head with a curse.

-8-

He was toying with them. He wasn't using his full strength. He wasn't even really trying. He was stalling. But stalling for what?

Kael stood back. He let the others fight. Castiel moved like nothing Kael had seen before. He had the strength of ten angels, or more.

Why was he stalling?

The woman. The huntress, cowered behind a wooden garbage bin. She looked out, watching the fight. Kael ignored her. She was of no importance and posed absolutely no threat to him or the others.

Why was Castiel stalling?

Why would an angel abandon the throne of god and travel to earth?

Why would an angel betray his brothers?

Why would an angel such as Castiel kill his brothers?

Oh.

Kael stepped back, his eyebrows rising.

Oh. Of course.

Why hadn't he realized it before?

He didn't alert the others. He made no attempt to warn them. It was best if they didn't know.

He left, disappearing in a flourish.

The Winchester's couldn't be far.


	8. Chapter 8

PART EIGHT  
The End

-1-

**Taber, Alberta**

Mary-anne hit the ground hard. Her chest rose and fell in rapid, gasping breaths. Castiel stood nearby. She studied him. They'd been at this for hours and he wasn't looking that great. The things she'd seen today, well, she didn't think she'd ever forget them. Castiel clutched something wiry and brown in his hand. It took her a moment to realize it was hair. He'd just torn the last angel to pieces. They were all dead now.

Castiel turned, seemed to lose strength halfway around, and collapsed to the ground.

"Hey!" Mary-anne got up with some difficulty.

She ran to him, stumbling to her knees at his... her... its side. She pressed her hand to his cheek, "Hey! C'mon! What are you doing? Get up!"

"Vessel..."

"They're all dead," Mary-anne looked around at the body bits and blood that covered her yard. He'd tried hard to keep them alive, she had seen how hard he tried to keep them alive but in the end they forced him to tear them to pieces.

"No," he reached out and grasped her wrist, "I... need... my vessel..."

Mary-anne frowned, "your vessel?"

"Help me."

Mary-anne nodded, "I'll do anything. Just... just tell me what to do."

-2-

**Harmony, Alberta**

Carson's cabin was right where Mary-anne said it would be. Dean stopped the car and rested his hands on his knees. Sam got out, closing the door with a soft click behind him. Dean missed the Impala. Already.

While Sam pulled weapons from the trunk Dean tried to muster up the energy to get this done. They hadn't heard from Mary-anne in hours. They tried calling a few times but her phone was either off or she wasn't able to answer.

Sam rapped his knuckle against Dean's window. He raised his eyebrow, his expression seemed to say; You coming? Dean sighed and pushed his door open. He took the rifle Sam pushed into his hands.

"This Eye of Bethel... it kills angels?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged, "You know about as much as I do. Garth couldn't get very much information on it. He's still looking but for now as far as we can tell it's just an artifact. An expensive but useless thing."

"So we get it, we stop the Seraphim and then..."

"It's over. I find Katie... you, you go back to what you do. It's over."

"Find Katie?"

Sam grimaced, "You're right. She is like me, and I love her. I really love her. I'm going to find her, Dean. I'm going to beg her to take me back."

"Are you going to tell her what she is?"

Sam shook his head, "some things we're better off not knowing."

Dean sighed. They didn't have time for this, "come on. Let's find this Carson."

The cabin door creaked loudly when Sam pushed it open. Dean waited behind, rifle raised and ready. Nothing jumped out at them. "Carson?" Dean called, not for the first time, "We're coming in. If you're in there, don't shoot."

Sam looked at him and shook his head, "You sure about this?" he whispered.

Dean shrugged, "I'm not sure about much these days."

He stepped through the doorway into the cabin. It was small, barely furnished. It didn't look like a place someone lived, more like the place someone stopped for supplies. By the kitchenette area rotted food rested on plates at the sink. On a chair in front of the fireplace protective vests, thick sweaters and gun holsters had been strewn with complete disregard for order.

Dean smirked. This place would drive Sam nuts. "Home sweet home, huh?" he murmured, "Carson?" he called.

This room was obviously abandoned but there were two doors ahead and he couldn't tell where they led. Or whom.

Sammy moved ahead of him. "Careful," Dean hissed.

He knew it was hypocritical to tell Sam to be careful, especially after all the dumbass risks Dean had taken in the last week but he couldn't help it. He valued Sam's life more than his own. If he lost Sam... he'd have nothing.

Behind them the front door slammed shut.

Dean whirled, Sam raised his pistol and turned.

In front of the door Kael smiled, no, leered at them, "I knew you'd come."

-3-

Carson was no fool. When he found himself face to face with an honest to god angelic creature he knew his number was up.

He lay on his back, mouth open, blood steadily drooling out of his mouth and from his eyes. He had moments left before this life, this pathetic life, was over.

He knew, the moment he took that damned Eye of Bethel, that someone, or something, would come looking for it. He hadn't realized just how powerful that something would be, or that it would guarantee his death.

Of course, knowing this now did him little good.

The world began to fade.

Soon he would be gone from this life.

Where would he go? Heaven? Hell? Someplace else?

He wasn't afraid of death, he was afraid of what came after.

Just as the last of his vision was about to fade he thought he saw a woman. He knew her name but only in an abstract, it-doesn't-matter kind of way.

_Mary-anne._

-4-

"This," Kael eyed Dean with disdain, "is why the great Castiel abandoned heaven? This is why he wanted to give up the Throne and take up mankind?" he laughed, "how absurd."

This was it. Their last chance and they'd lost it. _Cas. Cas I need you. Castiel!_ He thought frantically, _Castiel, we're in deep shit here. Please!_

But if Kael was here and not back in Taber with Mary-anne then... no. Castiel had to be okay. He had to be!

Dean tightened his grip on the rifle and without thinking through the consequences, he pulled the trigger. The bullet ripped into Kael's right shoulder. Blood sprayed but the angel did not flinch. His vessel leaked. His vessel bled. His vessel was falling apart but Kael just laughed.

"Well, there's one quick cure for this problem," Kael grinned, "this is what Castiel wants? Fine. We will destroy it."

Dean pulled the trigger again. This time the bullet slammed into Kael's chest. More blood, more bits, some splattered the floor, some the wall. Dean's ears rang. Beside him Sam began to fire too.

They both knew it was hopeless. Guns against an angel? What a waste of time, but they couldn't run. They couldn't do anything but wait for death and to hell if they were going to go down without some kind of fight.

Kael moved. With one step he was away from the door and standing in front of Dean. Dean grunted as one firm hand slammed into his chest. He flew across the room, slammed into the opposite wall and crumbled to the floor. The rifle slid from his fingers.

Sam cried out, "Dean!"

With a wave of his hand Kael sent Sam flying away. _No. No, no!_ Dean groaned as he watched Sam fly into the fireplace. Sam hit the floor hard. "Sam!"

"I will rid this earth of you and that traitor once and for all."

"Kael!"

At first Dean thought he imagined the voice. He must have imagined it. That voice, he hadn't heard it properly for some time. He'd heard pale imitations of it in several forms, female and male but now, now it sounded exactly as it should.

Kael turned. In the doorway a man in a pale trenchcoat waited. Dean sucked in his breath. _Novak... no, Cas. _Finally. His Castiel in his proper vessel. "Cas!"

Castiel did not look away from Kael.

"Traitor," Kael growled.

Castiel nodded, "Yes."

"Traitor!"

"I know."

Kael charged. Dean struggled to his feet.

Castiel dodged Kael, he side stepped and in the blink of an eye was at Dean's side. "Get out of here!"

"We don't have the orb!"

"I know. Just go, Dean."

Dean looked to Sam, who lay prone on the floor. "Sam?"

"GO! It's not Sam he wants!"

Kael was upon them. Castiel took the brunt of his blow. Dean darted around them both and ran to the now clear doorway. He heard Kael scream, the noise reminded him of a wounded animal not an angelic creature. He stumbled out the door and onto the porch.

"Orb," Dean gasped once he was outside, "where is it? WHERE IS IT?"

"Looking for this?" Mary-anne stood near the car, she held out her hand in which a soft glowing orb rested.

"That's the orb? Are you kidding me?" Dean stumbled off the porch, "How did you find it?"

"A dying man told me how to find it." Mary-anne said softly. The location of the Eye had been Carson's last words.

"Give it to me. Quick!"

Mary-anne shook her head slowly from side to side, "this isn't going to help, Dean."

"Yes. It is!" Dean snatched it from her hand.

"Dean, wait. Do you even know what it-"

"YES!" Dean shouted.

"Castiel told me to wait!" Mary-anne called after him, "he told me not to use it yet!"

Dean ignored her. He hurried back into the cabin where Kael had Castiel pinned to a wall. "Don't make me do this brother," Kael said.

"I tried," Castiel said softly, "I tried Kael, but I can't do it anymore."

Dean didn't care to hear their little conversation. He didn't care about their angst and their brotherly love or whatever the hell it was they had for each other. The only things he cared about were Sam and Cas. Everything else could eat dust.

While Kael was distracted he charged in from behind. The orb felt hot in his hand. He had no idea what to do with it, what use it would serve, but he intended to shove it into that bastard angel. Maybe from there it would activate on its own.

Over Kael's shoulder Castiel spotted Dean rushing forward, his eyes widened.

"No!"

Dean thrust the orb forward.

Castiel shoved Kael aside.

Dean tried to stop his forward motion but it was too late.

The orb touched Castiel's chest and the world exploded.

-5-

Mary-anne paced in front of the car. She wanted to go after Dean but that freaking angel had ordered her to wait here. Of course he'd told her to wait WITH the orb and Dean had taken that but still she was loathe to disobey his commands, especially after witnessing for herself just how powerful he was.

Earlier, while Dean and Sam rushed north to Harmony, she and Castiel had rushed south. When she asked what the hell they were doing and where they were going, Castiel had answered simply; 'I need my vessel.'

Mary-anne hadn't understood and she still didn't.

Now she mustered her courage, grabbed her shotgun and stepped towards the cabin. To hell with it. She wasn't much for waiting around.

She took two steps and a brilliant orb of light burst from the cabin. The light shone so bright it hurt her eyes. She squinted, unwilling to close her eyes completely and waited it out. When the light died she rushed up the steps and into the cabin, "Dean? Castiel? Sasquatch?"

Dean knelt on the floor beside the still, new form of Castiel. She would have trouble getting used to _that_ body. What had Castiel called it when they retrieved it from that abandoned farmhouse? 'Novak.'

The other angel, the one that had attacked them earlier at her home, stood off to one side. "What have you done, Castiel?"

Mary-anne raised the shotgun.

Dean pulled Castiel's head into his lap, "Cas?"

She couldn't see Dean's face, his head was bent to Castiel, his expression obstructed by her vantage point, but she heard the pain in his voice. She aimed the shotgun at the other angel.

Near the fireplace at the other side of the room Sasquatch groaned and with some difficulty got to his feet. "You all right, Sas?"

"Dean? Cas?" Sasquatch murmured.

"What have you done?" the other angel cried.

"Cas," Dean pressed his hand to the pale face resting in his lap, "I'm sorry."

Castiel's lips tilted in a soft smile, "thank you, Dean."

"Thank...? What the hell? Idiot! You idiot!"

"You've given me what I wanted."

"Death!"

"Life." 

The other angel's face was literally peeling off. Mary-anne grimaced but she didn't dare look away from him. He was still a hostile. He was still a threat.

"Dean. What the hell do we do now? Where's the orb?"

"In Cas," Sasquatch said grimly.

"What?"

"Dean... he..." Sasquatch trailed off.

"But that thing kills angels!" Mary-anne cried, "if it's in Cas..."

The other angel, the hostile one, grimaced. In a sudden flurry of feathers he disappeared.

"He's got no reason to stay now," Sasquatch said, "they were here for Cas. To take him back."

"Nothing to take back now," Mary-anne guessed. She lowered the shotgun and looked at Dean.

Sasquatch placed his hand on her arm, "We should leave them alone," he said softly, "I don't think he has much time left."

-6-

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Dean held Castiel's limp form to his chest. He rocked slightly back and forth, the words tumbled out in quick succession, he couldn't seem to stop them.

Castiel closed his eyes.

Dean groaned, "No! No. Don't. Cas!"

-7-

"Are you sure about this?" Sam asked from his position in the doorway.

Dean pulled the blanket up to Castiel's chin. He paused a moment to brush his fingers down Castiel's cheek. "Yeah."

"You don't want to bury him?"

"No." Dean wouldn't let anyone near Castiel. Not Sam. Not Mary-anne. He alone carried Castiel here. He alone confirmed that Castiel's heart had stopped.

A burial was too much. It was too final. He couldn't do it. He leaned over, pressing his lips to Cas' cold forehead. "I'm sorry Cas." He whispered.

When he left the room he told himself Castiel was just in heaven. He wasn't dead. He was just away and one day... well, one day he'd see the angel again and he'd give him heck for leaving like this.

-7-

_Three Months Later_

**Louisville, Kentucky**

"I hate cities," Dean pulled the collar of his jacket higher. It still smelled of Cas. Or, rather, the multiple bodies Cas had inhabited while with them. He'd found it shortly after they ... no, he didn't want to think about that.

It was enough to know that Cas had worn this. It was enough to know it held a precious memory. A memory he wasn't quite ready to revisit yet.

"I hate that you wrangled me into this," Sam said, "so we're both miserable."

Dean snorted, "Wrangled? Hey Sam, you want to do a job with me? Sure, Dean. Sounds great." His mock imitation of Sam's voice was deliberately too high pitched and too camp.

"How could I say no? You haven't called in weeks."

"TWO weeks. I didn't call for two weeks."

"That's a long time."

"God you're pathetic."

"You haven't told me what the job is." Sam pointed out.

"Hmm. Haunted hotel." Dean grinned, "sounds like fun, right?"

Sam snorted, "Hardly. You don't need help for a ghost?"

"No, but..." Dean had missed Sam. Simple as that. He missed him, so he called him with a bogus cry for help. Besides, if the mission was easy that meant they could actually spend quality time together as opposed to time running for their lives together. "How's Katie?"

Sam knew Dean was just trying to change the subject but he didn't call his brother on it. "She's good," he smiled, "I think she's starting to forgive me."

"That's great."

"It is. It really is."

They stood in comfortable silence, gazing up at the rough looking building before them. A single sign, hanging by one hook, identified the place as; Sweet Dreams Hotel. It sounded like a dive, looked like a dive and quite frankly smelled like one but a job is a job and Dean took whatever he could get these days.

Anything to keep busy.

Anything to keep from stopping.

To keep from thinking.

"Let's go," Dean stepped forward but Sam grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"I brought someone," Sam said and now his smile was so wide it made Dean suspicious, "someone I thought you might like to see."

"Like who?" Dean turned.

The 'someone' had been waiting in Sam's car. Dean hadn't seen, he hadn't bothered to check if Sam had a passenger. These days he missed too many things. Too many little but important things.

The passenger door opened and the 'someone' stepped out. Dean squinted. In the dim light of the street lamps it was hard to tell just who he was looking at. His heart flipped. But no. No, he was seeing things. Imagining things.

Why did he ask Sam to meet him at night? The job. Hauntings. Right. But, now he wished they'd agreed to meet in the afternoon, so this blasted darkness couldn't play tricks on him.

The 'someone' moved towards them, easing in and out of the darkness until he stood before them.

Close up, bathed in the light of a street lamp, Dean knew he wasn't seeing things anymore.

"Cas?"

Castiel nodded, "Hi Dean."

Dean grabbed at Sam's arm. His knees suddenly felt weak. What kind of a trick was this? "No... Novak?" Dean guessed. It had to be Novak. Cas was dead. The Eye of Bethel had killed him... driven by Dean's hand.

Castiel shook his head, "No. Not Novak. Castiel."

Dean held tight to Sam, afraid that he might fall to the ground if he didn't have his brothers stable presence to hold him up. "How? What?"

"The Eye of Bethel." Sam said softly, "it didn't do exactly what Castiel said it did."

Castiel rolled his eyes upward, "It did do what I said it did."

"You said it kills angels," Dean choked out from a throat that suddenly felt thick. Too thick to breathe, or speak through.

Castiel shrugged, "I may have exaggerated."

"Bethel was an angel who loved a human," Sam said softly, "so much that he ripped out his grace and became human so he could be with the one he loved. He was the first to choose humanity over divinity. God punished him by forcing him back into angelic form and tearing him to pieces, literally. Later on it was discovered that these pieces could turn an angel into human form without the pain of tearing out grace. The Eye was the last piece."

"I attempted to tear out my grace," Castiel said softly, "I was unsuccesful. I tried everything I could think of. When I learned of the Eye... I knew it was the only way."

"But you couldn't find it on your own, because it's protected from angels." Sam said.

"How do you know all this?" Dean asked, "how long have you known all this?"

Sam winced, "a few weeks," he said quietly.

"And you didn't tell me?"

"I wasn't sure, Dean. I didn't want to tell you until I was sure."

"God Cas!" Dean growled, now anger surged through him, giving him strength. He pushed away from Sam and lunged at Castiel.

He grabbed the sneaky angel by the front of his trenchcoat, "Why didn't you tell me!"

"I intended to tell you before I used the Eye," Cas said quietly, "Kael... if I had just killed him but I couldn't. I had already killed so many of my brothers. I hoped to convince him to leave through more... amiacable means."

"Before that! Why? Cas! WHY!"

Castiel avoided looking directly into Dean's eyes. Dean shook him harder but Castiel continued to look away, "I wasn't sure how you would respond. I wasn't sure if you would support my decision or fight me on it. I can never return to heaven. Dean. Never. I am human now until death. And after death..."

"After death?" Dean repeated softly.

Castiel shrugged, "Purgatory."

Dean winced, "Cas."

Castiel nodded, "I would have told you. Once I convinced Kael to leave, I would have told you."

"I thought you were dead," Dean whispered.

Castiel rested his hands over Dean's, "When I awoke you were gone. You were all gone."

"I found him at the cabin," Sam said softly.

"I tried to get back, to find you, but without identification I couldn't cross the border. It seemed like my only other option was to wait." Castiel explained, "I would have called but, as you know, I am unfamiliar with phones and didn't have your current numbers."

These last few months it had bothered Dean that they hadn't buried Castiel but he just couldn't do it. It had seemed too final at the time. He thought about going back and doing things properly but he just hadn't been able to build up the courage.

"You're an idiot," Dean muttered, "you could have found us, if you weren't such an idiot."

Castiel's brow furrowed.

Dean shook him lightly but his heart wasn't in the gesture. He wasn't really angry anymore. He felt numb with shock and beneath that numbness he was relieved.

"Why?" Dean asked gruffly, "why did you want to be human?"

Castiel's hands slid down Dean's wrists until they rested lightly on his forearms, "the kind of love humans have for their mate makes angels crazy. It makes us sick, in our heads, in our hearts. It makes us long for things we can never have, not so long as we are angels."

Sam coughed. He eased back a few steps, "I'll just... wait over here."

Dean felt heat course through his blood. He knew his cheeks must be flushed. He didn't care. He pulled Castiel closer, "Say it," he growled, "say it."

Castiel looked away, almost shyly. "Must I?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I really think you must."

"I am in love with you, Dean Winchester. I have been and I always will be, yours."

Dean choked on a laugh that was part joy, part disbelief.

"Idiot!"

And then Cas was in his arms and there really wasn't anything else left to say.

-Epilogue-

They weren't an overly affectionate couple, something Sam was infinitely grateful for. He wasn't sure how he would have handled seeing them snuggling, kissing or whatever. Instead they acted just as they had before, except Castiel was no longer some powerful other thing, he was an intelligent but clueless human being.

If Sam hadn't witnessed their love confession he might not have realized they were in love, except in those moments when Dean looked at Castiel with a small smile and Castiel looked back with his typical serious expression. In those moments Sam could see the emotion that bristled between them.

They were happy. That's all that really mattered. Purgatory, death, the things that came ahead, Sam knew Dean didn't think about that. Thinking about that would sour now and they had to treasure now after all they'd been through to earn it.

Sam smiled as he watched them bicker. Dean looked up, frowning, "What are you laughing at Sasquatch?"

Sam shrugged, "do you really need me?" he asked. "You've got a partner now. Why do you keep calling me out?"

Dean grinned, "because my current partner is an idiot and I need someone with experience."

Castiel did not rise to the bait, nor did he seem offended. He was busy slowly and carefully tearing apart a hamburger that was perhaps four times as wide as a regular hamburger.

Sam knew the truth. Dean called him out because they were family and they needed these little adventures. There was a time when Sam resented it but now he enjoyed their time together.

"I was thinking I might bring Katie along next time," Sam said, "would that be all right?"

Dean rubbed his hand against his pant leg, "Katie? Can she hunt?"

"I think she'd like to learn."

"Great. Then we'll have two newbs slowing us down."

Sam laughed, "How's humanity treating you Cas?"

Castiel looked up from his hamburger, "Hm. It's... interesting."

Dean snorted, "he's less human and more helpless puppy."

"I am not helpless."

"No, you really are."

"On our last mission I saved your life."

"I let you think you saved my life. I had things under control."

"Oh really? Nearly having your head chopped off is having things under control?"

"You know, you've got a bad attitude!"

Sam leaned back in his chair. His lips tilted in a small smile.

-THE END-


End file.
